


the most inclusive form of redemption (this side of black holes)

by clavicular



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, BDSM, Dom!Scott, Kink Negotiation, M/M, POV Scott McCall, Season 3a, Trust Issues, discussions of consent, sub!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all the tension and lies between them, Scott and Derek struggle to trust each other. They have no reason to even try letting the other in. Even so, they find themselves drawn to each other - find themselves fitting together in new and uncertain ways. Maybe it's what they both need, but neither of them knows how to deal with it. </p><p>Or: The one where Scott and Derek work out their problems with kinky sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ravenspear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenspear/gifts), [clockpunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockpunk/gifts).



> **Warnings:** While there's no noncon or dubcon in this fic, the characters do discuss issues of consent in a way that may be triggering for some people. Additionally, it's set during an alternate version of s3a, so Scott is underage. If you have concerns and want more details, please feel free to message me over on my [tumblr](http://scottisqueer.tumblr.com/ask).  
>     
>  **Notes:** I just want to say a huge thank you to every single Scerek shipper out there, whether it's your otp or just a pairing you enjoy occasionally. This fic has been in the works for a long time, and I've watched our tiny corner of fandom change and grow so much over the past couple of years. It honestly warms my heart. I'd particularly like to thank the friends who've stuck with me and this fic since the beginning, because there's no way it would have gotten done without you. 
> 
> This fic is dedicated to [Kim](http://scottsredhoodie.tumblr.com) and [Matt](http://femmescerek.tumblr.com/), who loved it before I even knew where I was going with it. When I think of Scerek, I think of you guys, and that's pretty much the highest praise I can give.

_...All along I've wanted_  
_the good days to be the good days and not_  
_good like drilling your teeth is good_  
_when it stops but good like moonlight_  
_on my wife's hip with the sheets_  
_pulled back and her hair riotous_  
_and misconstrued. That's one thing_  
_and not another. That's the best use_  
_of a bed and two bodies working out_  
_the most inclusive form of redemption_  
_known in the universe this side_  
_of black holes..._

[Whither Thou Goest](http://www.versedaily.org/whitherthougoest.shtml) by Bob Hitchcock

~*~

 

Scott visits Derek, afterwards. Neither of them knows what to say. They stare at each other across the abandoned train depot, rain coming down outside. The sound of it falling is amplified in the silence, and Scott’s lungs fill with the scent of damp earth. Derek’s hands clench into fists at his side. He doesn’t ask what Scott is doing here. Scott doesn’t say he’s sorry.

“It was a good plan,” Derek says eventually.

Scott can hear bitterness behind it, and he wants to defend himself. People were dying, people he cared about were in danger, and he was backed into a corner with no option. But after everything Derek’s done, Scott doesn’t have to justify his actions to him. He shouldn’t care if Derek doesn’t see it that way.

“I did what I had to,” he says. And Derek’s right. It _was_ a good plan.

Derek snorts, not exactly a disagreement, and relaxes his clenched hands. It looks like an effort.

“You should go,” he says.

Scott shrugs. “If you want.”

Derek doesn’t say anything else, and Scott takes that as answer enough. When he reaches the door though, he hears Derek shifting on the concrete floor, breath catching like he’s about to say something else. Scott pauses without turning around, resting a hand on the door frame.

“You liked it, though,” Derek says softly. “The power. Making someone else helpless. Don’t think I couldn’t tell.”

Scott goes still. Derek reeks of anger, his heart is pounding, and there’s an edge to his voice that says he certain he’s hit his mark. Scott looks back at him and Derek smirks, waiting for him to deny it. Scott hisses through his teeth and keeps walking. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.

He leaves claw marks in the door frame when he goes.

 

*

 

The alpha pack forces Scott to cooperate with a lot of people he would rather avoid. At the top of that list is Peter Hale, currently making a dedicated but unconvincing show of harmlessness. He smiles too much, praises Scott often, and talks about the importance of unity within a pack. It makes Scott’s skin crawl.

The day Peter finally drops the act is… not a good day. He catches Derek alone and ambushes him, and it’s pure chance that Scott arrives not five minutes later. Even bleeding out from the deep gashes across his throat, Derek can handle himself, but it’s Scott who tackles Peter and pins him to the ground. Scott bares his fangs, claws slicing into Peter’s wrists, and Peter snarls but can’t throw him off. The struggle doesn’t last long. Peter goes limp under Scott, shutting his eyes and tilting his head to expose his throat. Scott stares down at him, breathing heavily. Every instinct is screaming at him to sink his teeth into Peter’s neck. Just enough to hurt him. Enough to stake a _claim_. Peter swallows.

Scott rolls off him and stands up. He backs up against the wall and keeps his face impassive when Peter sits up and raises a curious eyebrow at him.  Derek is slumped against the opposite wall, blood smears now leading to smoothly healed skin. He’s watching Scott with narrowed eyes. Scott meets his gaze, and Derek smirks, slow and pointed.

 

*

 

They let Peter live.

Nominally, anyway. With so many other werewolves and hunters around, he’s not likely to last long as an omega. Leaving Beacon Hills gives him a fighting chance though, and Derek says it’s more than he deserves. Scott can’t find it in himself to disagree, but he still vetoes the kill-him-and-be-done-with-it plan.

“Well, I guess it’s your decision,” Derek says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He accepts it though. Scott doesn’t know what to do with that.

 

*

 

The door to Derek’s loft is latched but not locked, and it gives way without trouble. Scott storms in without bothering to knock. Inside, Derek is standing by his work table, staring down at the papers covering it. His heart jumps as the door grinds open, but he looks up at Scott unfazed.

“No, please, come in,” he says.

The sarcasm sets Scott’s teeth on edge.

“Why does Isaac think you’re moving against Deucalion tomorrow?” he demands.

He glares at Derek from on the opposite side of the table, but Derek isn’t particularly impressed. He lifts both eyebrows as if to say,  _why do you think?_

“That wasn’t the plan!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Derek snaps. “Do we tell each other plans now?”

Scott’s about to ask what exactly Derek is getting at, but Derek beats him to it.

“Don’t, Scott, you knowwhat I mean,” he says. He drums his fingers on the table. “I’m surprised you care. After everything the alpha pack has done, I’d think you’d be just as happy to see them dead.”

He gives Scott an appraising look. Scott grits his teeth and doesn’t back down. Derek’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re angry I didn’t  _consult_ you?”

He says it like a question, but he sounds pretty sure of himself. Scott flushes.

“I don’t want to see anyone dead,” he says.

He ignores the rest of it. That’s not what this is about, and anyway, so what if he is? Derek should start trusting him if he wants Scott’s respect. But Derek’s found something he thinks he can push, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to let it go. He rounds the table, eyes fixed on Scott.

“You don’t care,” he says. “You just don’t like being kept out of the loop. Missing the power, Scott? The control?”

He laughs when Scott doesn’t answer. It’s bullshit though, of course Scott cares. Keeping people alive will always be his priority.  Scott folds his arms. The corner of Derek’s mouth twitches, and then…

And then he falls to his knees, hands locking behind his back and his head tipped up to watch Scott’s face.

Scott’s jaw drops.

“Is this what you want?” Derek asks. “Your alpha on his knees for you? Do you want me completely at your mercy, or is that too cliché?”

He doesn’t sound mocking anymore. He sounds  _dangerous._ And fuck but that shouldn’t be so- No, Scott can’t think about this. It’s not right, it’s not what he wants, and he can’t think about it. But Derek Hale is kneeling in front of him, tense and furious and completely focused, and actually Scott can’t think about anything else.

Slowly, Derek says, “Or maybe you only want it if you have to force me.”

“Get up,” Scott hisses.

Derek obeys him immediately, eyes gleaming, and that wasn’t how Scott meant it but suddenly his jeans are far too tight.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, stepping towards Derek. “That I like the thought of you like that, helpless and desperate for me? That I want to make you… that I want to  _take_ you, that I don’t care what you want?”

They’re chest to chest now. Derek is still furious, but his eyes are dark with something else. Scott snorts.

“Sorry, Derek, I can’t help you,” he says. “Find someone else to play out your fucked up fantasies with. I’m not like that.”

Derek looks like Scott slapped him – though a vindictive corner of Scott’s mind whispers that Derek might like that. He goes to turn away, but Derek grabs his arm. And Scott just… reacts. He spins back around and shoves Derek face down onto the table. Derek grunts at the impact, and Scott thinks he’s going to shove back, but he just twists his head to look at Scott out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, you’re nothing like that,” he says.

Scott wraps a hand around Derek’s neck. His claws press against Derek’s skin, and Derek sucks in a breath.

“Are you going to fight back?” Scott asks. Derek’s whole body is tense under him, but Scott knows he won’t. He laughs, feeling reckless. “You’re not just trying to prove a point. You want me like this. You’d do anything for me right now.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Derek spits.

Scott eases his grip on Derek’s neck, claws retracting. He strokes his thumb over Derek’s pulse.

“Fine,” he says. “You’ve proved your point.”

Derek looks just as unsteady as Scott feels. His lips part silently, and there’s something intoxicating about that. Scott wants to know how far Derek will let him push.

“Now tell me to stop,” Scott whispers.

He runs a finger along Derek’s bottom lip and Derek’s hands clench, nails digging into the table. He doesn’t say anything.

“If I’m wrong, it should be easy. Come on, Derek, say you don’t want it. I’ll walk away right now.” Scott smirks. “I won’t  _believe_ you, but I will stop.”

Derek’s so obviously torn, and Scott sees right through him: the desire to throw this back in Scott’s face and prove him wrong weighed against the unbearable need to give in. He’s still so tense, almost shaking with it, and he won’t look at Scott. Fuck, he’s beautiful like this. It’s a terrifying thought, but Scott’s already said so much that this private admission has to be okay.

He slides the tip of his finger into Derek’s mouth, nudging his teeth.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Scott says. “Spread those pretty lips for me and I’ll tell you all the things I want to do to you. I might even follow through on some of them.”

Scott can smell Derek’s arousal. Derek must know that, but he still doesn’t move.

“Don’t worry, you can pretend I didn’t give you a choice, if you like. If that’s what  _gets you off_ .”

Derek growls.

He doesn’t relax.

Scott is going to leave. He can only take this so far, Derek’s not giving in, and whatever Derek thinks Scott  _won’t_ do anything Derek’s not asking for. He doesn’t want to. And maybe that’s what does it. Maybe his weight shifts at Derek’s back, maybe it was something in his voice or maybe Derek just knows he isn’t kidding around anymore. It doesn’t matter, because Derek lets out an honest to god  _whimper_ and all of the tension floods from his body.

He doesn’t just open his mouth. He leans up, wraps his lips around Scott’s finger, and sucks. Scott’s heart stutters. He’d expect Derek to be smug about that, but Derek’s not making a point any more, not putting on a show. His mouth is warm and wet and perfect, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks, and if it’s this good with just a finger… Scott thinks about what it would be like to have Derek on his knees, not trying to provoke Scott but because he wanted to be there, nuzzling and mouthing at his jeans until Scott finally gave him what he wanted. Scott slides his finger slowly in and out of Derek’s mouth and wonders what it would take to get him to whimper again.

“Good boy,” he murmurs.

Derek’s eyes flicker shut. Scott pushes another finger into his mouth, mesmerized by the way Derek accepts it greedily.

“You’re gorgeous,” Scott says. It should be impossible, but the words fall effortlessly from his lips. “You look so shameless. Like you’d give anything to please me. That’s all you want, isn’t it, Derek? To let me use you.”

Derek ruts forward. There’s nothing for him to gain friction on.

“I could keep you like this, strung out and desperate, for as long as I wanted. Make you earn every touch.”

He slides a third finger between Derek’s lips, and Derek gasps as he lets him in. That hits Scott low in his chest. Derek’s so quiet, every sound feels like a victory.

“That’s right,” he murmurs.

Derek’s tongue laps at Scott’s fingertips. Scott moans softly and grinds against Derek’s ass.

“Trying to convince me to get you down on your knees?” he asks. “I think I’d like that. You’d open up so willingly, wouldn’t you? Just like this. God, it would feel amazing. And you’d take anything I gave you. You must be aching to get your mouth around my cock.”

Derek shudders. He’s given  up trying to rut against the table, focused instead on taking Scott’s fingers as deeply as he can. His teeth graze Scott’s knuckles. It makes Scott breathless with pride, and it makes him want more. He pushes his fingers deeper, keeps going until Derek gags.

“Shh.” Their faces are already close; Scott rests his forehead on Derek’s temple. “Relax, Derek. You’re being so good. I know you can take this for me.”

He draws his hand back and teases Derek’s bottom lip with his fingernail. Derek pants and strains towards him, lips parted in silent appeal. Scott hums at that, pleased.

“I’d fuck you slowly at first. Take my time with you, just enjoy the warmth of your mouth and the drag of those gorgeous lips.” 

He graciously allows the tips of two of his fingers into Derek’s mouth. Derek sucks them down eagerly, chest coming up off the table in his haste. Scott grabs Derek’s hair with his free hand. His elbow shoves Derek’s shoulders down, holding him in place.

“Is this how it would be?” Scott whispers. “Would you want it too badly to wait? You need to give up control, Derek. Beg me if you like, but stop fighting. Let go.”

Derek whines. It’s an unexpected sound, unbearably precious. Scott closes his eyes and tries to breathe it in.

“If I fucked you, I could do whatever I wanted. I could make you wait. I could make you beg. I could take you apart in every way, have you writhe and gasp and moan my name, get you to offer me anything. I could  _make_ you give in.”

Scott’s blood is singing. It prickles like moonlight under his skin. He could do anything, he could make Derek do anything, he could…

He stills. The floorboards are hard beneath his feet. The late afternoon sun burns against his eyelids, and when opens his eyes, it’s blinding.

His hands fall away from Derek.

He steps back and Derek exhales, the barest hint of a moan in it. The sound twists in Scott’s gut.

“Derek,” he says.

Derek makes a muzzy, questioning noise. He stays flush against the table.

“Get up.” Scott tries to make his voice gentle, but he can hear the snag in it.

Scott sees confusion on Derek’s face as he pushes up. He sways as he turns around. Scott should steady him, but his body won’t move. There’s an apology hovering on the tip of his tongue. He can’t push it past his teeth.

“Scott,” Derek says. His eyes are unfocused. “What -”

Scott’s chest constricts.

“I have to go,” he says.

Derek frowns. He lifts a hand, fingers uncurling clumsily in the air. Scott jerks back. He can’t stand this. Derek’s face is too open. He looks lost, stripped of all his defences, and Scott did that to him. Derek let him.

Scott turns for the door.

“Scott?” Derek calls after him. His voice breaks pathetically around the name.

Scott stops. He turns back and meets Derek’s eyes.

“Don’t move against the alpha pack tomorrow,” he says. And fuck, that wasn’t what he meant to say at all, but suddenly he can’t stop. “I’m serious, Derek. Don’t attack Deucalion.”

He slams the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott almost turns around eight times on his way home. He counts them in his head, tracking the exact moment he talks himself out of it. Once, as he’s kicking over the bike’s engine. Twice, as he rounds the corner. Again, as he hits a deserted intersection. Again. Again. The last time, he pulls into a gas station and slumps against the wall of the single bathroom stall. He runs his hand backwards through his hair and tries to even out his breathing.

Months back, not long after Scott agreed to work as part of Derek’s pack, the two of them sat in the disused train car Derek had made his own and talked strategy.

“If you want to help Jackson, we have to catch him,” Derek said. “Do you have a plan for that?”

Scott nodded. “I’ve got Stiles making a net right now. Fishing line’s pretty sturdy, right?” He kept his expression innocent just long enough for Derek to start opening his mouth in horror. Then he shrugged and grinned. “If that doesn’t work out, maybe we could try mountain ash?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of a smile on his face.

“Or a moat,” Scott suggested. “Or maybe a complex labyrinth of mirrors?”

“No, I like the net idea. It has merit.”

It was… fun. Something that almost qualified as a bright spot on the otherwise dismal horizon. They tossed ideas back and forth - some ridiculous and some slightly more plausible - and Scott felt hopeful, even close to prepared for whatever came next.

They were finishing up, and Derek turned his head to the side, listening for signs of movement outside the building. The motion left his neck stretched taut. It wasn’t - it wasn’t anything. But it caught Scott off guard, and for a fleeting instant, it was like Derek was baring his throat to him. Like he was submitting. Scott swallowed.

“Nothing there,” Derek said.

Scott blinked rapidly as Derek turned back, shaking off the half-formed thought.

“I’ll- I’ll get going then,” he said.

Derek gave him a curious look.

“You can stay if you like.”

Scott shook his head and stood up. Derek watched closely, and Scott hadn’t understood why that made something in his heart turn over. Still seated, Derek had to look up to meet his gaze, and Scott felt the sudden urge to step closer.

Derek’s eyes followed him out the door.

In the cramped bathroom stall, Scott rubs his face. Leaving Derek’s loft was the right thing to do. It was the  _only_ thing. He can’t pretend anymore that he doesn’t notice Derek lowering his lashes when he greets him. He knows what it means now, and he can't lie to himself about what it does to him. He wants to card his fingers through Derek's hair, force Derek’s head back to expose his neck, drag teeth along Derek's skin. He wants to  _hurt_ Derek.

Scott splashes water on his face and unlocks the door. His hand strays to the phone in his pocket, but he doesn’t take it out. He can’t imagine what he could possibly say. He grabs his keys instead, and goes home.

*

There’s a message waiting for Scott on the answering machine. His mom is working late tonight, and she says not to wait up. If Scott could feel anything, he might be grateful. At least he doesn’t have to face anyone else yet.

He kicks his shoes off in the hallway and stumbles into the shower fully clothed. Hot water seeps through his shirt and makes his jeans stick to his legs. Scott can’t get Derek’s face out of his head. He leans his forehead against the tiles.

If Scott were a better person, he’d be thinking about the initial fury in Derek’s eyes, or the way he looked completely gutted when Scott left. Instead, his ears are ringing with Derek’s whimpers and gasps. He closes his eyes and all he can see is Derek on his knees staring up at him, or rutting uselessly against the table, or wrapping his lips around Scott’s fingers. Scott turns the water up until it’s scalding, but it’s still not enough to burn the images out.

He peels his shirt off and drops the sodden mess to the floor.  Unbuttons his jeans and struggles out of those too. The water’s even hotter on his bare skin, but nothing helps. He’s still thinking about how Derek might sound if he begged. Scott’s been aching inside his jeans since long before he left Derek’s apartment. He wraps a hand around his cock, and that touch alone drags a soft moan from his throat. It’s so good. It shouldn’t be so good, but Scott knows he can’t stop. He jerks himself frantically, almost viciously, ignoring the self-disgust pooling in his gut. His focus narrows down to heat and need and the memory of Derek yielding beneath him.

He’s close to the edge already. He doesn’t intend to draw this out, but as it gets harder to hold back, Scott finds his strokes slowing. He thinks about the way he’d touch Derek, if Derek were here. Push him up against the tiled wall, wrap around him from behind, get a hand on his cock and the other around his neck. He wouldn’t choke Derek, just hold him like that, let Derek feel the threat. Derek’s a little taller, but the difference is small enough for Scott to get his lips next to Derek’s ear. He’d whisper all kinds of filthy things to him, about how indecent Derek looks like this, about how much Scott loves it, about how Derek is  _his_ . Derek’s a little stronger too, but it wouldn’t matter, because Derek would be devoting all that strength to doing everything Scott asked. Scott would stroke him quickly, get him close to the edge, and then ease off just to hear Derek whine in desperation. He’d start again, slower this time, turning Derek into an absolute mess. He’d make Derek beg, and then push him past the point of speech, and then make sure there was one word he never forgot.

Scott comes thinking about his name on Derek’s lips, chanted over and over and over again.

When he finally turns the water off, he doesn’t feel any cleaner.

*

Scott cooks dinner on autopilot and eats alone in the dining room. He tucks his legs up onto the chair such that they’re digging into the table and doesn’t realise until afterwards that he forgot to switch on a light. He’s too tired to drag himself upstairs to bed, so he curls up on the lounge instead with the television muted in the background, the picture throwing lurid colors across the inside of his eyelids.

He wakes to find a blanket has been draped over him in his sleep. His mom switched off the T.V too, and brushed hair off his face. Scott wonders if she kissed his temple before she left. Judging by the ache in his neck and the unpleasant taste in his mouth, Scott’s slept later than he should have. He feels better than he did last night though, a little more able to deal.

He still doesn’t feel good.

He finds his mom in the kitchen, washing dishes. He watches her from the doorway until she looks over at him and raises an eyebrow.

“Good  _morning_ ,” she says, with just enough sarcastic emphasis to make Scott glance at the clock.

In his defence, it is still technically morning. For about three minutes. He grins sheepishly at her, and grabs a dish towel as he crosses the room. The smile feels heavy on his lips.

They work together in silence for a while. His mom’s presence calms him, but his mind keeps straying back to the day before. It’s like a rash, and the urge to scratch is overwhelming.

“Do you think I’m different, now?” he asks abruptly.

He concentrates on drying the glasses and avoids his mom’s eyes.

“Now that what? Now you have a motorbike to ride everywhere instead of cycling like someone without a death wish?”

“Now I’m a werewolf.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Scott can’t look up. They haven’t talked about this. Not since Gerard, not since the kanima and Jackson’s mercifully temporary death. Melissa stopped avoiding him, but they haven’t spoken about it. They haven’t acknowledged anything that happened. Scott understands, but it hurts.

“Do you feel different?” Melissa asks, carefully.

Scott shrugs. “Sometimes I think so. I’m not sure.”

It might explain some things. But then again, maybe not.

“Sometimes I hope so,” he says, quietly.

He feels his mom look at him sharply. She studies him for a moment and then goes back to the dishes, like she’s trying to give him space to process his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

Scott can’t tell her the truth about what he did to Derek - what he  _wanted_ to do - but he has to give her something. If he’s capable of really hurting someone, he has to ask this, he has to know. He searches for a way to put that into words.

What comes out is a different truth, one he hadn’t meant to share.

“You were scared of me,” he whispers.

Melissa goes very still.

“I- never mind. Forget I said that,” Scott says.

He sneaks a glance at his mom, and finds her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. The plate in her hands is thoroughly clean, but she keeps making idle circles on it with the washcloth.

“I was scared of what had happened to you. The idea that someone could hurt you and I didn’t know about it still keeps me up at night.”

Scott doesn’t mean to push, but…

“It wasn’t just that. You wouldn’t even look at me.”

Melissa puts the plate down, pulls off her soapy gloves, and turns to him.

“I didn’t understand. All of a sudden you had claws and incredible strength and the ability to heal bullet wounds. I didn’t know what to do.”

She reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Do I think you’re different? I think you’re every bit as kind and brave as you’ve always been. You’ve done a lot of growing up in a very short period of time, and I wish… you shouldn’t have had to. I wish I could have kept you safer. But if you’re different, it’s only that you feel the weight of that.You may be physically stronger but all you’ve ever done with that is try to help people. That’s the core of who you are.”

Scott shakes his head, not sure if he wants to shrug off her hand or not.

“I’ve made mistakes.”

“So has everyone. I made a huge mistake when I shut you out, and I’m sorry.”

Scott shakes his head again. Melissa’s grip tightens.

“Scott, look at me. I reacted badly, but it had nothing to do with you.”

She keeps her hold steady and waits for Scott to look up. When he finally meets her gaze, he’s shocked by the sincerity he sees there. Something clicks into place inside Scott. He’s not sure what it is, exactly, but it feels like he’s been missing it a long time. Melissa lets go of his shoulder to smooth his hair back.

“I let you down when you needed my support most. And I knew it. That’s why I couldn’t face you. I was worried I’d screw up again if I tried.” She grins ruefully, then turns serious again. “I should have realised what you needed was more important than my guilt and doubt.”

“Thank you,” Scott says, and it’s like air being unknotted in his lungs.

Melissa steps forward and pulls him into a hug. Scott folds up into it, clinging back. It feels good. He’s not sure what he believes anymore, doesn’t even know who he is half the time, but his mom believes in him. She doesn’t think he’s a monster. It’s something.


	3. Chapter 3

This time, Scott knocks.

 After the conversation with his mom, Scott had gone up to his room and spent three hours staring at his latest English text. He’d turned the pages, he thinks he even made notes in the margin, but now he doesn’t remember a single word. Endless questions chased themselves around inside his head, and it was like following lights down a foggy road. He could barely even make out what they were. He still didn’t have any answers but by the time he’d put the book down, he knew what he had to do.

Heading up the stairs to Derek’s loft though, a sick feeling had begun building in his stomach. It keeps winding around his guts as he knocks again. It’s more complicated than apprehension. A deep sense of wrongness itches under his skin, and the longer Scott waits outside Derek’s door, the more urgent it becomes. He needs to see Derek. Needs to know he’s okay.

He keeps knocking, louder and more urgent, and finally he’s rewarded by the sound of tentative movement inside the loft. Derek grunts, and then Scott hears the sound of someone dragging themselves towards the door and slumping against it. Scott’s hit by a wave of nausea, and the faint scent that’s been nagging at him since he got here finally makes sense. He lunges for the door’s handle, scrambling to get it open.

Derek sways in the empty doorway, hands pressed to his stomach. Blood seeps through anyway, pooling in the gaps between his fingers. He looks up at Scott with heavy eyes.

“ _Derek._ ”

Scott surges forward to catch him.

“What happened?”

Derek shakes his head. “Get out.”

“What  _happened_ ?” Scott insists.

Sluggishly, Derek tries to shake himself free. The moment Scott lets go though, he sways forward again, breath laboured. His arm brushes Scott’s reaching hand.

“You know what happened,” he says.

Scott runs his thumb over Derek’s shoulder, watching Derek’s eyes flutter closed. Like he can’t stop himself, Derek hums quietly and presses into the touch. His breathing turns slow and deep, and the raw need tugs at Scott’s heart.

Then Derek tenses again, gaze flicking up to Scott’s face.

“You attacked Deucalion,” Scott says into the silence.

“Even after you told me not to.” Derek’s mouth twists into a thin, unhappy line. His shoulders curl in tighter, and his voice shakes with pain and the effort to breathe. “Don’t sound shocked. I might not be  _your_ Alpha but last I checked, I still hold the title. You can’t tell me how to run my pack.”

“I’m not trying to. I just – All I want is to know what happened. I can help you. Are we safe here? Is everyone else okay?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You need someone’s help, and I’m the only one here. Do you want…” Scott bites his lip, and then moves his hand to Derek’s chest, flattening his palm above the gaping wound.

“It’s under control,” Derek says.

“Please. If I just - ” Scott concentrates, and Derek’s pain leaches into him, rippling through his veins. His blood blackens with it, skin going tight and heavy, but it’s a barely an echo of what Derek must have experienced. Scott flinches, swallowing down a whimper, and it’s totally worth it to finally feel Derek relax.

A second later, Derek jerks away. His back hits the edge of the doorway, and it’s the only thing that keeps him from hitting the floor.

“ _Don’t._ ”

He stares at Scott with huge, betrayed eyes. Scott stares back uncomprehending.

“What? Derek, why …?”

“I just... I don’t want…”

Derek’s panting too hard to get the words out, but suddenly Scott gets it. He’d rather remain in agony than accept this from him. Scott suddenly finds it a little hard to breathe himself. Derek doesn’t owe him a thing, and that’s not even close to what Scott wants, but it kills him that because of a mistake he made, Derek is choosing to suffer.

Once upon a time, there were easy answers. Help people in pain. Respect other people’s wishes. Derek has the right to refuse any kind of care he wants, but it goes against everything within Scott to just stand back and watch.

“Alright,” Scott says. He tries to keep his voice gentle. “If you don’t want me here, I get it. But I can’t leave you like this. If you ask me to go, I’ll go. But I’m calling Deaton first.”

Derek eyes him carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. Scott holds his hands up in a show of peace. He keeps his feet planted on the floor, letting Derek have the space he needs. After a moment, Derek sighs and looks down.

“Fine. Stay until I heal.”

Relief surges in Scott’s chest.

“ _Then_ get out.”

Scott nods, fervently grateful in spite of everything.

Derek’s eyes fall close. Like all the fight’s suddenly gone out of him, his legs give way beneath him. Scott steps forward and catches him without thought. His arms wrap around Derek as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Derek lets him. His head droops against Scott’s shoulder.

Scott prods him gently.

“Derek? Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” Derek mumbles.

“I think sarcasm’s always a good sign,” Scott says, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips. “I’m going to help you over to the bed, okay? Then I have to look at the wound. There could be something in it that’s keeping you from healing.”

“Really?” Derek asks flatly, so Scott supposes he figured that much out.

It’s easier than Scott thought it would be. Derek’s heavy and a little awkward to support, but at least he’s not a dead weight at Scott’s side. Scott gets him settled on the edge of the bed – sitting, because he refuses to lie down – and kneels beside him.

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asks.

Derek snorts but nods. He lets Scott help him out of the torn, bloody mess. The gash in Derek’s chest is clean but deep and extends from his hip up to the middle of his sternum. A shorter gash runs beside it, along his ribs. Carefully, Scott traces his fingers over the wound. Derek hisses, and Scott pulls away.

“Sorry,” he says.

His fingers are tingling.

“There’s wolfsbane in the cuts,” Scott says. “I think that’s what’s slowing the healing. I’m going to have to clean it. Is that okay?”

“Fine,” Derek says, gritting his teeth.

Scott gets up to find a clean towel and a bowl of water. When he gets back, Derek’s head is bowed forward and his eyes are closed. He looks like he’s having trouble breathing again.

“Okay?” Scott asks quietly as he kneels back down beside him.

Derek nods.

“Are you sure you won’t let me take the pain?”

“I’m fine,” Derek grits out.

Scott sighs.

“What about the others?” he asks as he starts working. “Isaac, Boyd, Cora…?”

“They’re all fine,” Derek says. “I’m the only one who was injured.”

“Unlucky,” Scott says, smiling a little.

“Lucky,” Derek says firmly.

He winces as the damp towel digs into his wound.

“You know,” Scott says, “you don’t have to be the one taking the falls all the time. We’re here to help you. That’s what pack is, right?”

“You and I are  _not_ pack.”

Scott frowns. “We’re something _._ ”

Derek holds Scott’s gaze for a moment. Then he rolls his eyes and looks away.

“I would have come,” Scott says, softly. “Whatever our differences, if you need me, I’ll always - ”

“I didn’t want you to come,” Derek snaps, and then goes abruptly quiet.

Scott tries to catalogue the myriad of conflicting emotions on Derek’s face. It’d make sense if it were just anger or bitterness. Derek has every reason to resent him. But Derek’s vulnerable too, adrift, and Scott senses a bone-deep ache he’s not sure even Derek fully understands.

They both hear the lie in his words. Neither of them mentions it.

Scott goes back to cleaning the wound. Despite the towel, his fingers are sticky with Derek’s blood now, and there are smears of it down his chest from when he caught Derek. Derek shivers under his touch. His breathing slows, as though Scott’s intent focus on him is calming, and Scott finds his own breathing slowing to match. The surreal intimacy casts him off balance. It’s so at odds with the defenses Derek keeps throwing up.

Scott puts the towel down when he’s done. They keep breathing steadily in time with each other.

“I shouldn’t have walked out last night,” Scott says. “I shouldn’t have left you the way I did.”

Derek freezes. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Not talking hasn’t done us many favors so far. But all I really need to say is that I’m sorry.”

Derek stands up. Perhaps it’s to put distance between them, but with the bed behind him, he can’t back up. Scott’s left kneeling at his feet, far too close. He tries not to think about that as he tilts his head back to look up at Derek. His mouth feels dry.

“I’m healing,” Derek says. There’s a catch in his voice.

Scott gets to his feet too. Derek’s right, the skin is already starting to knit together. Scott lifts a hand as if to test it, but stops himself before he can touch. Derek breathes out sharply; Scott’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not.

“I’m healing,” Derek repeats. “You can go.”

“I don’t want to,” Scott admits.

Derek says nothing to that. Scott waits, hoping he’ll relent, but Derek’s jaw is set. He gives up, turning to the door.

“Why did you come here?”

Scott pauses, looking back at Derek.

 

“You didn’t know I was hurt. Why come back?”

“I told you. I’m sorry for leaving last night. You were… I broke down all your walls and then just left you. It wasn’t fair and I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about this. But I needed to know if you were okay. If maybe… if we could be okay.”

Fragile isn’t how Scott would usually describe Derek, but it’s the only word for the expression on his face. His whole body wavers. And Scott understands. He feels like he’s been scraped to pieces from the inside out.

Quietly, Derek asks, “Why did you leave?”

Scott bites his lip, but right now, he can’t be anything but honest.

“Because I was scared of what might happen if I didn’t.”

Derek frowns. He takes a faltering step forward.

“Are you still scared?”

Scott almost wants to laugh.

“Of course I am. God, Derek, look at us. Look at what we can do to each other. If I wasn’t scared, I’d be dangerous.” He looks down. Much quieter, he says, “Maybe I’m dangerous anyway.”

He feels Derek’s eyes on him and wonders what Derek’s looking for. He can’t quite bring himself to look up. Derek’s footsteps echo quietly in the room, and it sounds as though he’s finally sure about something.

“I owe you an apology too,” Derek says. “I’ve been blaming you for things that aren’t your fault. Pushing you in ways I had no right to. You’re not dangerous, Scott. I never believed that.”

When Scott looks up, their faces are practically touching.

“Stay,” Derek says.

“Is that what you want?”

Derek nods.

Scott hesitates. “Just ‘stay’, Derek? Or…”

“What do  _you_ want, Scott?”

And… god. Scott doesn’t have an answer. He’d come to find out if Derek was okay. He’d hoped he could make him understand why he left. But now, beyond that? He doesn’t want to leave and he doesn’t want to hurt Derek and he doesn’t know where that leaves him. The world feels out of focus and unreal.

Derek snorts, his eyes flickering past Scott, over to the half-open door.

_I’m not going anywhere,_ Scott wants to tell him. He opens his mouth to say it.  _We can talk about this._ _I won’t let you down._

He’s not sure he can promise that, though. And the truth is, he doesn’t want to talk.

Scott says, “I want you.”

Derek’s eyes widen. His lips part.

 Scott says, “Kiss me.”

 And Scott’s breath catches in his throat, because Derek doesn’t even hesitate. At Scott’s command, he closes his eyes, and closes the distance between them.

The most beautiful part is the way Derek meets Scott at every turn. Hands on Scott’s hips, teeth dragging across Scott’s lips, body arching into Scott wherever his fingers roam. He yields where Scott pushes only to find a new way to push back. It makes Scott’s heart race.

With Derek’s shirt lying discarded on the floor somewhere, he’s already far less clothed than Scott, and suddenly that becomes… significant. Scott runs a hand over his chest. He’s gentle, and Derek’s trying his best to stay still, but he can’t help the little whine of pain as Scott’s fingers press against his healing skin.

“Sensitive?” Scott asks.

“It’s fine.”

“You like it,” Scott guesses.

Derek doesn’t respond.

Scott winds an arm around Derek to keep him from flinching away. He smiles into Derek’s next kiss and presses a little harder.

“Fuck,” Derek gasps.

“Too much?”

Derek’s eyes are bright and blown wide. He shakes his head.

Scott hums approvingly and kisses Derek’s jaw. It’s so easy. Derek is desperate for more, for anything Scott will give him, and Scott knows exactly where to push. He could take Derek apart completely and make him beg for Scott to do it again. They’re both aching for it. It’d be so sweet.

The thought feels dangerous. Too close to the kinds of thoughts that drove him out of here last time. He drags himself back from that edge.

“Again?” he murmurs.

“ _Please_ ,” Derek says, and then bites down on his lip like he hadn’t meant to.

Scott laughs, and presses a kiss to his lip.

“That’s good, Derek. Let me hear what you want.”

He drags his fingertips over Derek’s chest again. Derek jerks in his arms like he can’t decide if he wants to get closer or pull away. His low whimpers send a thrill running right through Scott.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Good,” Derek says. He sounds almost intoxicated.

Scott traces the hem of Derek’s jeans, and thinks about telling Derek to take them off. Thinks about getting Derek on the bed, naked and arching beneath him, without even removing his own jacket. Derek would feel so exposed, completely at Scott’s mercy. He thinks Derek would love it.

Right now though, Scott wants to feel Derek’s hands on him. He needs to be closer, skin against skin, raw and immediate and real. He takes Derek’s hands off his hips and guides them to his jacket. 

"Undress me,” he says.

Derek tugs the jacket off his shoulders and then goes for Scott’s shirt. He moves clumsily, like he’s having trouble thinking, and Scott’s fascinated by how little it took to get him to this point - unable to focus, yet so eager to obey. Scott is patient. He holds his arms up for Derek to get his shirt over his head, and then rewards him with a kiss.

“Keep going,” he murmurs.

Derek’s fingers go to Scott’s fly, and Scott stands there, arms by his sides, waiting. Of all the things that have happened between them, this could be the most indecent. Scott can’t even explain it. The rush of power he gets watching Derek struggling to unbutton him defies all logic.

Frustrated, Derek drops to his knees. Every bit of attention he can spare is on Scott, fingers still working away at his fly, and Scott finds himself staring down in awe.

“You don’t have to rush,” he says.

With a snarl, Derek snaps the button free and drags Scott’s jeans down his thighs.

“ _God_ .”

Derek buries his face in the curve of Scott’s hips. Scott lets out a shaky breath, fingers tangling in Derek’s hair of their own accord. Derek nuzzles lower, and at Scott’s noise of encouragement, begins mouthing at him through his boxers.

“I want – ” Derek breaks off.

“Yeah?”

Scott fights to keep from thrusting against Derek’s mouth. This is already so much better than he could have imagined. Even through the fabric, Derek’s lips are warm and wet and utterly perfect.

Quietly, Derek says, “Tell me to suck you. Please.”

“You haven’t finished following my last order.” Scott tightens his grip on Derek’s hair. “Did you forget? I told you to undress me.”

With a helpless whimper, Derek grabs the hem of Scott’s boxers and drags them down too. Scott’s already kicking his shoes off, too desperate to wait for Derek to figure out the laces in his current state. Between the two of them, they get Scott’s pants over his ankles. And then Scott’s totally naked, fingers still twisting in Derek’s hair as Derek strains towards his erection.

“Please,” Derek says. “Scott,  _please_ .”

Scott jerks Derek’s head back sharply, forcing Derek to look up at him. He holds Derek’s gaze for a long moment.

“Suck me,” he says, and lets go of Derek’s hair.

After so much build up, it seems impossible that fact could live up to anticipation. But Derek wraps his lips around Scott’s cock, and Scott actually feels time stop. Derek’s muted moans reverberate around him. Scott thinks he might be moaning too, but everything except sensation and pleasure gets lost before it reaches his brain. He gives himself over to the feeling, lets himself get swept away in it. His whole world is heat and desire and  _Derek_ , Derek’s scent and Derek’s moans and Derek’s mouth on his cock. Derek’s total submission. Scott reaches the edge embarrassingly quickly, and it takes everything he has to hold back from it.

“Derek, stop, I’m going to-”

Derek’s nails dig into Scott’s hips, and he takes Scott even deeper. With a sob, Scott grabs Derek’s hair. He means to stop Derek, means to drag his head back, but instead he’s pulling him closer and rocking against his mouth. Derek gags, and Scott tries to ease his grip, but Derek doesn’t pull away.

“I’m going to come,” Scott warns.

Derek just whines urgently, and fuck, that’s it, that’s all Scott can take. His grip tightens again and he tips over the edge, coming down Derek’s throat, coming so hard he can’t see. Derek swallows everything, and makes a reluctant sound when Scott eases him off.

“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning his forehead against Scott’s belly. His voice is rough.

“Yeah,” Scott agrees.

He strokes Derek’s hair, waiting for his legs to stop threatening to give way.

“That was- that was good,” Derek says.

One of his hands slips off Scott’s hip. He lets out a shaky breath, his other hand tightening its hold on Scott. It takes a moment for Scott to realize he’s palming himself through his jeans.

“Hey,” he says. “Do you want- Let me take care of that.”

Derek’s strokes falter. He frowns up at Scott.

“Derek?”

“You don’t have to,” Derek mumbles.

He looks unexpectedly shy, and smaller than he was. Scott’s pulled down his walls again, and Derek’s too far gone to mind. Suddenly ‘ _I want to,_ ’ doesn’t seem like enough.

Scott pitches his voice low, and keeps stroking Derek’s hair. “Stand up.”

Derek sways as he tries to obey, but Scott catches his arm.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“I’m cold,” Derek says, relaxing into Scott’s touch. Scott presses closer, rubbing his hand up and down Derek’s back.

“Shower?”

Derek nods.

They stumble into the bathroom together, Derek shedding the last of his clothes as they go. Scott’s arms are around Derek’s neck, and he presses clumsy kisses along his jaw as he guides him. He manages to get the hot water turned on without breaking away. It’s strange, the way everything feels too slow and too fast at once. Scott hasn’t really thought about it, but if he had, he might have expected the thrill of power to fade with his orgasm. Something about the way it lingers catches him off guard. The intensity, maybe, or the softness, the way the edges seem knocked off. Scott’s kisses slide down Derek’s neck and Derek tilts his head, letting Scott slip around behind him. Derek’s obedience is sweet, and Scott can’t separate that feeling from the desire to take care of him.

He brushes the thought away as soon as it crosses his mind. It’s… arrogant. That’s not what Derek asked for.

Scott’s shoulders hit the cold tiles. He pulls Derek against his chest.

“How close are you?” he asks, nuzzling Derek’s cheek.

“I’m- I-  _Please,_ ” Derek says.

Scott slicks his hand up with soap and wraps it around Derek’s cock. Derek shudders, pressing back against Scott.

“Yeah,” Scott says, as he starts to stroke. “That’s good, Derek. Show me how much you like it.”

Derek keens and arches. He might not even have heard Scott; he’s too shameless to be acting. Scott keeps going, alternating hard and fast strokes with more teasing ones, until Derek’s pants and gasps turn into one long, wordless plea. Scott keeps talking too, tells Derek how good he is, how beautiful, how much Scott loves having him like this. The shower wall is hard against his back, but Scott barely notices when it starts to hurt. He says Derek’s name. The weight of it feels good on his lips, so he says it again. He means to draw this out, but Derek says,  _Please_ , and suddenly Scott can’t bring himself to slow down.

“Derek,” he breathes.

And Derek spills all over Scott’s hand.

*

“We should talk about this,” Scott says, curling up behind him in bed later. He rests his hand on Derek’s bicep, stroking absently.

Derek breathes out slowly. Scott would guess that his eyes are closed.

“We’re just giving each other what we need,” he says. “It doesn’t have to be about caring.”

“I do care about you,” Scott protests.

Derek sighs. “Fine, whatever, but we’re not… you’re not in  _love_ with me. Don’t make this into a big deal.”

“Alright. I won’t.” Scott closes his eyes too. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to the back of Derek’s neck. “But that wasn’t really what I meant. If we’re going to do this, we should talk about it. What we like. What we don’t like. Things like that.”

Derek’s body goes tense, and he doesn’t say anything. Scott falters.

“Do you… do you want to do it again?”

Tersely, Derek says, “Yes.”

“Then -”

Derek abruptly leans forward, breaking out of Scott’s grip as he reaches for something on the dresser. When he lies back again, he’s holding a phone out for Scott over his shoulder.

“You should text home. Say you won’t be back tonight.”

“Derek?”

“We can talk later, Scott. Let it go.”

Scott takes the phone from Derek. He opens a new message and starts typing, only half aware of what he’s writing. The phone feels heavy in his hands. Derek’s still tense, and Scott wants to say something to fix it, but he’s not quite sure what’s wrong.

Eventually, Derek concedes a little and settles back against Scott. He takes a slow, deep breath.

 

“I don’t know what I like,” he says, softly. “Can’t we just… I like what you do.”

Scott lets out a startled laugh. “Me? I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing.”

He glances over the text he’s composed one last time and hits send, dropping the phone on the bed in front of Derek. Derek rolls his eyes and puts it back on the dresser.

“I think it’s okay if we don’t know,” Scott says. He curls around Derek again and goes back to stroking his shoulder. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to shiny-glor-chan for the beta. Sorry this took so long, guys.

Scott expects things to change. They’ve been dancing around each other so long Scott almost  _wants_ something to change, if only to prove that they finally crossed this line. Something should feel different between them now, Scott’s sure of it.

Things go on as they ever have.

A few weeks after their first time, Scott hears rumor of a rogue omega lurking around Beacon Hills. Tall and sleek with brilliant blue eyes, or so Allison’s contacts say. It sounds like Peter.

“We should look into it,” Derek says, when Scott passes the information on. “You’re free Thursday afternoons, right?”

“You want my help?”

Derek snorts. “Even if the town weren’t crawling with hunters and Alphas, the last time I saw Peter, he tried to kill me. I wouldn’t mind a little back up.”

“No way, you had him on the ropes the whole time.”

Scott grins and… okay, maybe that’s different. Working together and teasing each other without it feeling like a hopelessly fragile alliance is not something he really expected to have with Derek. It’s… it’s nice.

So maybe when Scott thinks that he expected it to be different, what he means is he expected it to be worse. He thought this thing between them would ruin everything, hurt them both in ways they couldn’t come back from. He’s starting to hope he might have been wrong.

They go out Thursday evening, canvassing the woods together on foot. It’s tedious work, even knowing where the wolf’s been sighted in the past. Derek scowls and squints a lot, prowling around with silent intent, until Scott’s feeling the tension creeping up his shoulders too. He starts throwing twigs into Derek’s hair just to get him to lighten up. Derek swipes them away with a glare, but Scott just smiles angelically and starts up again every time Derek’s back is turned. It’s worth it, if only for the gleam in Derek’s eye right before he gives up ignoring him and tackles Scott to the ground.

They don’t find Peter. Either the Argents’ intel was wrong or he’s moved on by the time Scott and Derek get there. Strangely, Scott feels okay about it. Usually he’d be uneasy knowing a threat could be out there, and him sitting vulnerable without any of the facts. But if he and Derek are really on the same side now, maybe it will be ok. Maybe this is another thing they can figure out together.

*

Scott runs a hand up Derek’s back, starting at the base of his spine. His splayed fingers press into Derek’s skin, making Derek shiver. He looks so exposed like this, kneeling at Scott’s feet. Not vulnerable the way Scott might have expected, but open. Like he’s letting Scott in. Scott’s nails drag over Derek’s shoulder.

“Ready?” he asks.

Derek nods. He’s already got his eyes closed. It hits Scott all over again what a gift this is, the trust Derek’s giving him. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling humbled by it.

As agreed, Scott slides the blindfold over Derek’s eyes and checks it’s secure. He waves his fingers in front of Derek’s face just to be sure and gets no reaction. Then, giving in to temptation, he cups a hand around Derek’s jaw and leans down to kiss his temple.

“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t in the script,” Derek murmurs.

“I’m improvising,” Scott says.

He tilts Derek’s head up so he can kiss the corner of his mouth too. Derek’s lips part hopefully, but Scott just runs a thumb over them. If he wants a real kiss, he’ll have to earn it.

“Scott…”

“You know, as I recall the script, you weren’t supposed to have any lines. Does that sound familiar?”

“It might.”

Scott grins.

“So can you do that, or should I gag you as well?”

Derek pauses, thinking it over.

“I can do that,” he says.

Scott kisses his parted lips, but chastely, just the lightest brush of skin. Derek whines in frustration.

“Good boy,” Scott says. “I’ve been looking forward to hearing you moan for me. It would have been a shame to miss it.”

He drops a final kiss on Derek’s forehead and lets his hand fall away from Derek’s face, reaching for the lube lying nearby. He presses the bottle into Derek’s hand.

“If you behave, I might even let you beg.”

With that, he takes three steps back and drops onto the couch behind Derek. He folds his arms, waiting.

At a pace that feels agonizingly slow, Derek uncaps the lube and slicks his fingers up. He places the bottle down carefully and leans forward until his shoulders hover inches off the ground. Scott’s gaze lingers on Derek’s ass, now pushed up into the air and on full display for him.

“Come on, Derek,” Scott says, low and coaxing. “You know how gorgeous you are. I love seeing you like this. God, just look at you, naked and on your knees, ready for me to use. Aren’t you going to touch yourself for me?”

Derek likes it when Scott talks like this. It’s one of the things he told Scott, gruff and avoiding his gaze, as Scott pushed him into the mattress and undressed him slowly. One item of clothing for every confession. The world’s most annoying strip tease, Derek had called it, but Scott kept running his hands over Derek’s body and kissing whatever skin he could reach until Derek was too much of a mess to hold anything back.  _I don’t like needles or electricity_ , he started.  _Roleplay’s not my thing._ Scott kept sucking tiny red marks into his neck, making Derek pant even if they healed too quickly.  _I- I’ve tried bondage before_ , Derek said. Scott hummed against his skin.  _Did you like it?_ he asked. A pause.  _I’m not sure_ , Derek said,  _I think I’d like to try again. If you want that._ Scott leaned up to kiss his lips and unbuckled his belt in response.

And so it went, confession after confession, until finally,  _You could talk_ , Derek said.

Scott’s fingers traced Derek’s pulse down his neck.  _Talk?_

_Like you did before, when I was… When you had me on the table_ . Derek closed his eyes, a deep blush creeping up his neck.  _You talked about things you… wanted. Things you might do to me. How you could use me_ . Hesitantly, he met Scott’s gaze.  _I liked that._

And breathless, wordless, Scott gave up teasing him. He slid down and took Derek in his mouth.

Scott has words now, though. He’s testing them, trying to find the ones that work.

“You must be desperate for it,” he says. “You’re so hard already, just knowing I’m watching you like this.”

Derek lets out a shuddery breath. He reaches back to tease the rim of his hole, fingers making slow circles around it. He’s careful not brush his cock where it’s leaking against his belly.

“Yeah. That’s good. You’re such an obedient little slut, aren’t you? So eager to give up control.”

It feels awkward in his mouth, but Scott tries to say it with confidence.

Derek’s circles start getting faster. He drags a fingertip over his hole sometimes, and sometimes starts pressing one inside, but he never lets himself go past the first knuckle. He whimpers softly, arching back against his own hand.

“Are you waiting for permission to fuck yourself?” Scott asks. “I didn’t tell you that you had to.”

Derek presses his finger against his hole again, thrusting shallowly.

“Can I?” he asks.

Scott’s eyebrows go up.

“If you want to be denied so badly, maybe I should say no.”

Derek groans. “No, Scott, please. I want it. Let me fuck myself for you.”

“Did I tell you that you were allowed to beg yet?”

Derek opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought.”

Scott stands up. He paces around Derek, letting him hear the footsteps echo off the floor. He takes his time, circling Derek twice before finally coming to rest in front of his face. He’s close enough for Derek to kiss his shoes, if he asked. Derek’s breath is short and fast, waiting for Scott’s order.

“Fuck yourself for me, Derek,” Scott says.

Derek moans as he finally pushes a finger inside. It’s involuntary, too desperate and raw to be faked. Derek’s not a good actor. He blushes and stammers if Scott ever asks him to put on a show, inhibitions getting the better of him every time. Scott loves it. When Derek gets like this, it’s because he’s can’t help it.

“Slower,” Scott murmurs. “I want you to  _need_  it.”

Derek eases his pace. He whimpers and squirms as he does so, making soft sounds that would turn into pleas if Scott let him speak.

Scott stands over Derek and watches him finger himself without even a word just because Scott asked. The rush never goes away.

“Add another finger,” Scott says. “Get yourself ready and maybe I’ll think about fucking you. Would you like that?”

“Y- yeah,” Derek pants.

He reaches for the lube again, and then presses three fingers inside himself at once, gasping with it.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says. “Oh, god…”

He presses his forehead to Scott’s shoe, like he’s trying to nuzzle it. Trembling, he thrusts his fingers inside himself again.

“Don’t come yet,” Scott reminds him. “Only on my cock. Do you want me to fuck you, Derek? Want me to make you come?”

“Yes.” Derek keeps fucking himself, shuddering with every thrust. “Scott, I – Please.”

“Beg me for it. Beg me to use you.”

“Fuck, Scott, please. I need you to fuck me. I need to come so badly. I can’t even – this is all I could think about. Ever since we talked about it, it’s all I’ve been thinking about, and now I just…”

“Should I let you savor it a bit longer, then? I wouldn’t want to waste all that anticipation.”

“No, Scott, please. Please fuck me. I want you to- to use me. I need it. I’ll do anything, just please…”

Scott crouches down beside Derek. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay.”

He smiles as Derek tilts his face upward, like he’s trying to look at Scott through the blindfold.

“You’ve been so good, Derek. Can you stand?”

Derek whines as Scott eases his fingers out of his ass. He sits up slowly, like it almost hurts to move.

“Please…” he murmurs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Scott promises. “You’re doing so well.”

He helps Derek up and guides him over to the couch. He leaves the blindfold where it is. Scott’s been hard inside his jeans ever since Derek started touching himself, and it doesn’t take long for him to get himself unzipped. He sits with his jeans pushed down around his thighs and settles Derek over his lap, straddling him. Derek’s breathing hard, and he whines as Scott guides him down onto his cock.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

Neither of them moves. Scott’s hands are on Derek’s waist, Derek’s arms are around Scott’s neck, and for just a moment they’re frozen like that, forehead to forehead, breathing in unison.

“You okay?” Scott asks, quietly.

Derek makes a sound of assent. “You?”

“Never better.”

Derek gives a shaky laugh. Then, slowly, he begins lifting himself up. Both of them whimper with the loss, until Derek sinks down again, and then he’s bouncing in place, riding Scott’s cock like he was born for it.

“God, Derek.” Scott’s eyes fall closed, hips bucking up to meet him. “Faster.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek says.

Scott cracks an eye open. For half a moment he thought Derek might have been serious, but a smirk is playing on his lips.

Scott opens his mouth, but he's having trouble coming up with a suitable response to snarking in the middle of sex. Maybe Derek was angling for some kind of playful punishment, but Scott mostly wants to kiss the smirk away. He settles on reaching up to push the blindfold away, and then tightening his grip on Derek's waist. Derek keeps his eyes closed.

"Do you want me to tell you to stop?" Scott teases.

Derek gasps and shakes his head.

"Then show me how much you want this."

Derek grinds against him as he sinks down and Scott loses track of his thoughts completely. Derek feels so fucking good around his cock. He knows just how to move his hips and when to clench to push Scott right to the edge.

"Please tell me you're close."

Derek gives a sharp nod in response. His lips part, eyes going half lidded as he concentrates on chasing the sensation and letting the pleasure build inside him. Scott loves how selfish he gets when he’s about to come.

Scott reaches for his cock. “Do you need…?”

Derek bats his hand away.

“I want to… Just like this. I want…  _Fuck._ ”

His body goes rigid. His cock twitches and then thick spurts of come coat their bellies. Scott can feel his own orgasm building, but he fights it back, wanting to enjoy this just a little longer. He thrusts upwards, compensating for Derek’s faltering rhythm.

“That’s good, Derek. You’re so good for me. Feels so good.”

Derek whimpers, wrung out and over sensitive. His body goes limp and Scott can tell he’s struggling to steady himself on Scott’s lap.

“Don’t stop,” he murmurs. “Please. I want to feel you come inside me.”

And suddenly Scott can’t hold back any more. His orgasm hits him like a punch to the guts.

He comes back to himself sticky with sweat and come. Derek’s slumped on top of him, looking sleepy and pleased. Scott groans and pushes him upwards, just enough for his softening cock to slide out. Derek makes a mumbled noise of complaint and settles back down on Scott’s lap, letting his forehead rest on Scott’s shoulder.

"Sir?" Scott asks after a while, grinning.

Derek snorts and sits back.

"Would you prefer something else? Master, maybe? How about Lord?"

"Lord Scott," Scott says. It's hard to sound grandiose while sprawled naked underneath someone, but he gives it his best shot. 

"Daddy?" Derek suggests, innocently.

Scott finds himself somewhere between choking and laughing.

"No, I definitely think you're more of a Sir."

Scott shifts, trying to get comfortable.

"Anyone can be a sir. I get called that going into the post office. I liked Lord."

"How about 'pest'?"

Scott hits him with a cushion. It takes a while, because he's too lazy to open his eyes to find one, but groping blindly yields results eventually. Derek splutters and tugs the pillow out of his hands.

"Brat," he says. "Nuisance."

Scott purses his lips thoughtfully.

"How about Alpha?"

Derek throws the pillow at his face. He's blushing as he does it, though.

*

Scott gets the call at 4:03pm on a Sunday afternoon. He’s in the car with Stiles, sun glaring on the windshield and the music up too loud as they drive through the deserted warehouse district. Scott leans over to turn the radio down when his phone buzzes.

He pauses before he answers, staring at the caller ID. Derek doesn’t usually call him unless it’s urgent.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Beside him, he feels Stiles give him a strange look.

Silence stretches out on the other end of the line.

“It’s nothing.” Derek says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hey, hey, wait. What’s nothing? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Derek says.

Scott feels Stiles’ eyes on him again, and the car slows.  _Something wrong?_ he mouths at Scott. Scott makes a confused gestured in return and holds up a hand:  _wait._

“It’s okay. You know you can call me about anything,” he says into the phone. “What is it?”

Derek goes silent again, and for a moment Scott thinks he’s hung up.

“Scott, has Deucalion approached you about anything?”

Scott starts. “Deucalion? Why would he have?”

Derek hesitates.

“What’s going on, Derek?”

Derek sighs; Scott hears the exact moment he loses him.

“Like I said, it’s nothing. Forget about it. Everything’s fine.”

Scott wants to push. He has no idea what’s going on, but it feels important. If he could find a way to get Derek to open up… But he knows there’s no point.

“Hey,” Derek says, voice softening. “You should come around later.”

Scott looks over at Stiles, who’s pulled the jeep over now and is blatantly staring. Scott rolls his eyes at him.

To Derek, he says, “I can’t, tonight. Homework.”

“Sure,” Derek says. The word feels heavier than it should.

“Sometime this week? I get off school early on Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Derek says again. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. See you.”

The call ends before Scott’s even finished speaking. He frowns down at the phone in his hands.

“Dude, what the hell is going on?” Stiles asks.

“I wish I knew.”

"That’s not an answer. Was that Derek? What did he want?”

“He wanted to know if Deucalion had tried to talk to me about anything.” Scott sighs. “At least, that’s what he said he wanted.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles puts the handbrake down and takes off again without indicating. Scott’s too busy turning the conversation over in his head to remember to tell him off.

“Come on, there’s no one around anyway,” Stiles preempts him, grinning.

“One day you’re going to say that right before your dad’s siren starts wailing,” Scott mutters absently.

“One day,” Stiles agrees. “I’ll tell him you put me up to it.”

“Good luck with that.”

They drive in silence for a while. The car feels empty without the radio playing at full volume, but neither of them moves to turn it back on.

“What else would Derek have wanted?” Stiles asks.

Scott’s still staring at his phone.

“I just- you sounded like you didn’t believe that was all.”

Scott shrugs. “He said it was nothing.”

Stiles sighs, and Scott looks up at him. “What?”

“Nothing, just…” Stiles bites his lip. “When you answered the phone, it sounded like there was someone else on the other end of the line.”

Scott quirks an eyebrow at him. He doesn’t know why, but he’s almost afraid to ask. Stiles hesitates.

“You get this… look,” he says. “And your voice. If it’s someone you… Well.” He checks both ways as he runs straight through a stop sign. “All I’m saying is, I thought it was Allison.”

There’s a short pause.

“Huh,” Scott says.

He leans forward and switches the radio back on, refusing to look over at Stiles. It doesn’t mean anything. He cares about Derek, but it’s not- they’re  _not_ . Scott doesn’t want that.

He thinks about the way Derek sounded just before he hung up all the way home.

*

“I need you to fuck me,” Derek says, the moment Scott walks through the door on Wednesday afternoon.

He slides his arms around Scott’s waist and pushes their lips together before Scott has a chance to respond. Despite his eagerness, something feels off. Derek holds their bodies apart even as he nuzzles Scott’s neck. His shoulders are so rigid he’s nearly shaking with it.

“Derek, what-”

“I’m fine,” Derek cuts him off. He drags his teeth over Scott’s skin. “I just really want this. Come on, don’t make me beg. Not today.”

“Are you sure?” Scott asks. He tries to cup Derek’s face in his hands and get him to ease up. Derek’s nails dig into his side.

“Scott,  _please_ .” The words come out a growl.

Something’s wrong. Derek’s desperate and angry and Scott needs to slow this down and get him to talk about it. Derek makes a low sound and drags his teeth over Scott’s neck.

“Get on the bed,” Scott says.

Scott fucks Derek on his hands and knees and makes him take it, even when it must be hurting. It’s quicker than it usually is. Rougher, too. Derek claws at the sheets, but every time Scott tries to ease up, he snarls and thrusts back twice as hard.

“Shh,” Scott says, rubbing a hand along Derek’s spine. “What’s wrong?”

“Harder,” Derek pants. “More.”

After, he falls asleep with his back to Scott, curled in on himself and silent. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you guys, I am so freaking sorry it has taken me this long to get a new chapter up. Some life stuff got in the way, but now we are back on track to finishing this, and with only one scene plus some editing left to go, it will likely be finished within a month or less. 
> 
> With many thanks to Gloria for betaing this and calming my nerves, to my friends who have listened to me whine and provided endless support and encouragement, and to all of you guys reading this for being so patient with me. As ever, I couldn't have done it without you.

The alphas have been quiet lately, but Scott remains uneasy. It feels more like the whispers of an impending storm than real peace. Derek agrees with him, but he’s quiet when he says it, and looks away afterwards.

Things are fine between them – Derek says they’re fine. Scott stays over at least once every week, and sometimes more often. He tells his mom he’s studying. He says it’s easier to think away from the responsibilities and pressures of the rest of his life; it’s not exactly a lie. He and Derek hang out together. They make each other laugh. Derek needles him with a broad grin on his face, and goes down on his knees the moment Scott tells him to, and sometimes when they talk, he turns quiet, and won’t meet Scott’s eyes.

Mud and dead leaves squelch under foot. It’s the only sound Scott can make out. It’s unnerving, actually, how quiet this part of the forest is. Derek walks a few steps behind him, jerking his head towards distant almost-sounds as they go.

 _‘Have we missed them?’_ Scott mouths, catching Derek’s eye.

Derek scowls at him, giving a half shrug that Scott reads as, ‘ _How should I know?’_ He looks back over his shoulder again, and Scott wonders if at this point it’s just a habit, or if he really is as nervous as he seems. There hasn’t been any sign of the alphas out here – or indeed, any sign of life at all – but there were rumors something big was going down. Scott watches the line of Derek’s shoulders a moment longer, then goes back to picking his way through the underbrush.

Four steps later, he realizes Derek’s no longer following him. He’s still standing in the same place, squinting off through the trees.

“What is it?” Scott asks, coming up behind him. He keeps his voice low, but Derek still jumps.

“I don’t know.”

Scott frowns, opening his mouth to ask more, but in that instant Derek takes off through the trees.

“Der-” Scott cuts himself off. If Derek has seen something, he doesn’t want to alert it to their presence. Scott can’t leave him without backup, though. Cursing under his breath, he hurries after him.

He catches up to Derek in a small clearing. Derek doesn’t turn around as Scott approaches, though he isn’t looking at anything Scott can make out.

“We missed them,” he says.

Scott stops beside him and surveys the clearing himself. He can’t see much to indicate anyone else has been here, but Derek’s certainty makes him pause. Underneath the smell of sap and fresh rain, there’s something else, so faint Scott can barely make it out. Perhaps they missed this meeting by more than he’d counted on. He concentrates harder, trying to draw together a picture from all his senses, the way Derek taught him to. Some of the leaf litter on the ground is scuffed – Scott can’t tell exactly how many people were here, but it must have been more than four. Kicked shrubs at the edge of the clearing suggest they left in two groups, going off in different directions. He still can’t hear anything beyond Derek breathing beside him and the soft rustle of a breeze in the leaves above. His skin is cool. He wonders if that’s significant. And the scent… he can make out the smell of alphas now, a group of them, and that could only be Deucalion’s pack. There’s something else though, a little fainter, but still lingering. Scott breathes in, trying to trace it back through his memory. His hackles rise.

“Was Peter here?” He scans the area, looking for other signs of his presence.

Derek’s back stiffens and he turns to Scott with an unreadable expression. Taking a few steps forward, he crouches down to examine the scuff marks in the dirt. 

“Another omega,” he says.

His pulse, still racing after the dash to the clearing, echoes in the air. He straightens up.

“Is that what I smell like to you?” Scott asks.

Derek’s gaze swings back to him, and Scott shifts uncomfortably under it. There’s a heaviness to his eyes, to the air around them, and it makes Scott’s skin prickle. Derek drops his eyes to the scuff marks on the ground again.

“Something like that,” he says.

“Is something wrong?”

“You’re sure they were meeting today?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“What else did you hear?” The words are clipped. Derek folds his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean?” Scott tries to reel it in, but he can’t help pushing against Derek’s sudden hostility. “What’s going on, Derek? I’m not keeping anything from you. Why would I lie?”

Derek doesn’t speak, just stares at Scott like he’s waiting for something.

 _“What?_ Talk to me, Derek. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“Is that what we are?” Derek murmurs. “A team? Pack? But I’m not your alpha, am I? And you’re not quite a beta.”

“I could be,” Scott says, quietly.

Derek stares at him, and Scott doesn’t blame him. He hadn’t even known he was going to say it.

“I don’t want to blindly follow,” Scott says. “Not you, not anyone. I don’t like using violence to solve problems. I think we can do better than that. But I… trust you. I do, Derek. I hate that we can’t get past whatever this is.”

 “You want to join my pack,” Derek says. His voice is flat, almost sarcastic. He’s still staring at Scott. “Are you asking or offering?”

Scott sighs. “Does it have to be one or the other? I’m not looking for another power struggle, Derek. How long are we going to keep doing this?” 

Derek goes quiet. He never looks away, but somehow, it almost seems like he’s forgotten Scott’s standing there.

“What do you think Deucalion came here for?” he asks.

“What?” The question throws Scott. He’s still trying to understand what’s at the heart of Derek’s anger. “He’s… he wants to build his pack, doesn’t he? He’s here for you.”

Derek shakes his head.

“ _Power._ That’s what it always comes down to. He’d do anything for it, no matter who it hurts and what it destroys. It’s that simple.”

“Deucalion’s strong, but he’s not immortal. We can beat him. We will.”

“That’s not the point,” Derek says. He smirks, though it looks almost sad. “Everyone wants power.”

Quietly, Scott says, “I don’t.”

“What do you want, then?”

“To feel _safe._ To keep other people safe. To stop feeling so helpless and out of control all the time.”

There’s a retort half-formed in Derek’s head, Scott can see it, but he stops short. His brows draw together.

“Do you want me to tell you that it doesn’t matter? That what happened with Gerard isn’t important? That I don’t care if you lie to me, use me, fuck me over?”

“What? No! Derek, I- God, I’m so sorry. Is that what this is about?”

Derek snorts. “All I’m saying is, I know you. I know where this is going.”

“What does that mean? Derek, please. Just help me understand.”

And suddenly Derek looks bone tired, like he’s been utterly drained away.  

“You’re not my beta, Scott,” he says. “I know you never will be. It’s ok. Let it go.”

 Then he’s disappearing through the underbrush again, leaving Scott staring at his retreating back in defeat.

 

*

 

The classroom door swings shut behind him and Scott feels it in his bones likes a sigh of relief. A step ahead, Stiles carves a path through the crowd of students, heading straight for the parking lot. Scott has never appreciated his single-minded sense of purpose more; it’s been a long day.

“Can you believe Finstock gave us two pages of questions for homework _and_ a pop quiz?” Stiles groans. They push their way out of the milling throngs of students and into the sunlight. “Is he _trying_ to kill my will to live?”

“Sounds like him,” Scott replies absently.

All he can think about is getting home. He’s so distracted he almost misses the sideways glance Stiles is giving him.

“I thought you’d be in a better mood. It’s been like two weeks since Derek’s urgently needed your help with his dead-end investigations and, I don’t know, werewolf paperwork or whatever it is he does.”

“It’s been quiet,” Scott says.

Derek hasn’t called since that day in the woods. Scott’s picked up the phone dozens of times, but he can’t bring himself to do it, has only got as far as dialling the number once. It rang out.

“That’s what I mean _,_ ” Stiles says. “You should be celebrating! Enjoy your freedom while it lasts. Who knows when the next bad guy’s gonna turn up?”

“It’s not like the existing ones have gone anywhere,” Scott mutters.

Deucalion’s plans remain a mystery to him. He wants power, Derek says. He wants to build up his pack. But lurking in the shadows, in the edge of their peripheral vision… Scott can’t work out how it fits.

Stiles keeps talking, and Scott answers him on autopilot: _mmhmm, yes, ok._

The meeting with the omega that Scott and Derek had been too late to keeps pushing its way into his thoughts. He wishes he could talk to Derek about it. Something feels off, he just isn’t sure what. That’s true of a lot of things lately.

 If he’s honest with himself, Scott is angry with Derek. He resents his disappearance, the distance he’s keeping, the lack of any kind of explanation. Every time he thinks they’ve made progress they just end up back here, losing track of all the things they’re hiding from each other. Scott’s chest aches. So many questions and it’s still Derek he wants to go to for the answers. Yeah, Scott’s angry, but anger is easier than the rest of it.

It’s a Thursday. Scott should be curled up on Derek’s couch working on his algebra while Derek throws together half a week’s worth of meals in one go. They’d take it in turns to complain to each other and then Derek would check Scott’s answers while Scott rescued dinner from burning.

_“Are you sure you want to trust my judgement on this? I was an art history major.”_

_“I just need another set of eyes. What did you put in this that you didn’t last time? It smells amazing.”_

After eating, they’d find their way back to the couch to argue over what to watch on Scott’s laptop. Most of the time, it turns into a playful struggle, and ends with the computer on the floor and Scott laughing from Derek’s lap.

_“You know, we could just skip straight to making out,” Derek says dryly, and Scott runs a thumb along his jaw._

_“Now where’s the fun in that?”_

Stiles says, “So I’ll see you Saturday?”

“What?” Scott blinks.

“Scott, come _on_. This is exactly why we need to hang out.” He waves a hand in front of Scott’s face. “Where are you today?”

“Sorry. I’m just… tired.”

Stiles shakes his head. He swings his bag around as they finally reach the jeep, looking for his keys.

Scott rests his forearm on the doorframe and stares off across the parking lot. It’s well into the afternoon but the sun is still clear in the sky, glare reflecting off mirrors and tinted glass, making Scott squint. Cars roll by in stops and starts as everyone tries to beat each other out the gate. A red Toyota passes, and from behind it, a flash of black leather catches his eye. Despite himself, Scott’s head snaps up. He imagines for a moment that under the smell of hot pavement, gasoline and rubber, there’s a hint of something brighter, like earth and clean sweat; he imagines he’s inhaling Derek.

It’s not Derek. Derek wouldn’t be here. Scott waits for his head to clear.

Derek scowls at Scott from across the parking lot.

Scott’s heart leaps. He takes a step forward, then hesitates. Derek is just watching him, waiting for him to approach, and Scott feels suddenly shy.

Stiles’ elbow digs into his side.

“Ok, seriously, what is going on between you two?”

Scott winces. “What? Nothing!” Without even looking at Stiles, he knows the exact expression of disbelief Stiles is wearing. He bites his lip, casting his eyes downwards. “It’s complicated. We’ve been… spending more time together, I guess, and… But it’s not really… Look, can we talk later? I’ll explain, I will, I just…”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but waves Scott on.

“Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Scott nods, letting Stiles read the gratitude on his face.

“And Saturday, okay? I’m holding you to that. I’ll drag you out of bed if I have to.”

Scott waves his acknowledgment without turning around. He’s already halfway across the parking lot.

He refuses to let himself run, keeps his shoulders set and his pace even. The closer he gets though, the more unnerving Derek’s stillness becomes. A tendril of doubt winds around his gut. It’s almost enough to break his momentum. Something’s wrong.

“Did he hurt anyone? What did he say?”

The question is out of Scott’s mouth before he’s even stopped moving. If the alphas have finally made a move, they may not have time for niceties. His hands itch to reach out, to check Derek for hurt or damage. He shoves them into his pockets.

“Did he - Who? What are you talking about, Scott?”

Scott falters. “It’s not Deucalion?”

“No,” Derek says.

Scott breathes out.

“Then you’re ok.”

He says it like a statement, but he’s still convincing himself. Derek gives him a look like he’s trying to figure him out.

“Yeah. I just thought you might like a lift home.”

He offers Scott a reserved smile and Scott finds some of the tension in his back starting to ease. He smiles back.

“Thanks.” 

As Scott climbs into Derek’s passenger seat, he thinks about his earlier conversation with Stiles. _It’s been quiet_ , he’d said and it’s true, but over the last few weeks Deucalion has seemed closer than ever. It’s only feeling his hackles finally settle that he realizes it. He opens his mouth to say something about this to Derek, but when he turns, the low sun is etching a halo around Derek’s profile behind the wheel, and suddenly Scott can’t find the words.

 

*

 

The car hums quietly as they leave the school behind. Scott and Derek don’t speak much. The silence takes on a surreal quality - it’s not quite companionable, but neither is it excruciatingly uncomfortable. Scott doesn’t ask Derek what changed. It doesn’t matter why Derek’s here, he decides, only that he is.

Derek keeps his eyes fixed on the road.

“Why did you ask what Deucalion said to me?”

Scott starts. “What do you mean?”

“When you first saw me. You thought he’d done something and that people might be hurt. So what were you so afraid he might say?”

Scott studies Derek for a moment. His voice is neutral, face carefully unaffected, but his hands are tight around the steering wheel. Scott follows his gaze to the road ahead.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it.” He tips his head back against the seat, watching the scenery pass with unfocused eyes. The question is obviously important to Derek, but without knowing why, Scott’s not sure he can give him an answer. Things have been so strange between them. “Do you remember calling me a while back to ask if he’d approached me?”

Derek nods slowly.

“It was so out of the blue for me. You never explained it, but ever since then we’ve been… I don’t know. Out of step. I wondered if someone had said something to you. It almost made me think…”

“What?”

 “Nothing, really.” Scott shakes his head. “The only person I know who gets under your skin like that is Peter. But Peter’s gone.”

Of course, Peter’s been gone before, in a way that should have been more permanent, and he still somehow found his way back. Scott tries not to think about that.

“I’m not an idiot,” Derek says. “I know I can’t trust him.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just… He has a way with words. For a long time he was the only family you had left and I… I can understand why you’d want to believe in him.”

“Enough to make me doubt our unshakeable bond?” Derek says, dryly. “What a convincing argument that would take.”

 Scott recoils. Once upon a time it would have been nothing, but for Derek to throw their history in his face like this now feels like intentional malice. As though he wants Scott to know it doesn’t matter what they’ve been through together or what they’ve built. They’re not friends, he says. They won’t ever be.

Derek swallows. Softly, he says, “I’m sorry.”

Scott wraps his arms across his chest, disoriented and disarmed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Derek. If there’s something going on, I wish you’d tell me.”

Derek glances over at him, and Scott’s insides shift uncomfortably. The car slows as the traffic lights ahead turn orange.

“Last time I saw you, you mentioned Gerard,” Scott says. “I know we’ve both given each other a lot of reasons not to trust each other, but I – You weren’t supposed to get caught in the crossfire like that. I never wanted to hurt you.”

They come to a stop at the edge of the crossroad. Scott looks down.

“I told you, I’d rather have safety than power. I meant that. I like having you on my team, and if there’s anything -”

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek says.

“What? Of course it matters. You matter, Derek and - ”

“No. It doesn’t matter and I don’t care.” His voice soft, still. Incongruously calm. “I think I’d let you do anything to me. Even if I didn’t want it. Even if you hurt me.” Curled around the steering wheel, his nails dig into the palms of his hands. “I’d give you whatever you asked for. You think I should be glad you didn’t want to force me, but I almost wish you had. At least then I would have been giving in to you and not to him.”

Scott stares at him in horror. Derek shrugs and doesn’t meet his gaze.

“I just thought you should know.”

“Derek, that’s not what I meant. Don’t say things like that. Please, don’t…” Scott closes his eyes, trying to steady his voice. His lungs are tight. “You don’t have to let people hurt you to keep them. That’s not safety.”

He opens his eyes, and finds Derek giving him a strange, resolute smile.

“Are you going to keep me safe?”

Something in the way he says it makes Scott wonder what he’s expecting to hear. He shifts closer, tilting his head slightly, exposing the curve of his neck.

The lights turn green, and Scott looks away.

“Maybe we should stop doing this.”

“What?”

“If you don’t have lines with me, how can any of this be safe?”

Derek stiffens, and Scott feels his own shoulders drawing in. He doesn’t want to be right about this. But Derek will protest, and Scott will insist, and the more they fight, the surer Scott will become.

 “Fine,” Derek says. His voice is brittle. “Maybe we should.”

Scott looks up at him. He can’t quite get enough air. Before he can find the words to respond, Derek cuts across him.

“There’s a gas station ahead. I need to fill up.”

It ends the conversation, but not the uncertain strain between them. Scott’s thoughts are racing, and he still can’t get enough air.

The tension in the car holds until Derek pulls up beside the pump. Scott leaps out the moment Derek puts the handbrake on, slamming the door behind him. Derek’s hand lingers on his own door, and for a second, Scott is sure Derek will follow him out. Then he just flips the fuel tank open and settles back in his seat.

Scott takes a slow, deep breath. Gasoline fills his lungs, thick and ugly, and it’s a welcome distraction from his thoughts. The scent is nearly suffocating, but it keeps him focused on the task at hand. Keeps him breathing.

His hand is surprisingly steady on the pump.

This thing with Derek, it isn’t important. Not the way keeping people safe is important. Not the way _Derek_ is important. It’s just… something he thinks about, sometimes. An itch. If breathing room is what they both need, Scott can give up scratching.

He thinks about Derek on his knees, head bowed as Scott sweeps a hand through his hair. He thinks about tightening his grip, forcing Derek’s head back and making him strain for a kiss. He thinks about giving that up. There’s lead in his stomach. He keeps breathing.

_“Your heart is pounding, Scott. Is everything ok?”_

It runs through him like a jolt of electricity. He straightens, eyes burning in response to the threat.

Deucalion’s voice is a caress laced with mockery. Scott can’t see him, but he feels the dangerous smile.

He doesn’t have time to question it. Deucalion is here, the how and why aren’t important. All he can do is respond. A shadow around a corner catches his eye and his muscles bunch, anticipating the attack, readying himself to strike back. Before he can let go of the pump, though, Deucalion chuckles.

“Are you so eager for a fight? You have nothing to fear from me, Scott. We don’t have to be enemies.” He stands, indifferent, at the edge of the gas station. His expression is hidden behind dark glasses, but every line of his body says: predator. _“_ No one needs to get hurt.”

There’s a sound of friction, like sandpaper dragging against stone. A flame flickers between Deucalion’s fingers.

“Just try and hurt us,” Scott growls. He doesn’t move though, watching the match warily. It’s not close enough to catch the vapours in the air, not yet. It wouldn’t take much.

“Lie to yourself if you like,” Deucalion says. “We both know the truth. You’re angry and afraid, but that’s not why you’re going to listen to me. You want to hear what I have to say. And…” He blows the match out. “I’m not really the one you’re scared will hurt him.”

Scott’s hand flexes around the gas pump. He’s dimly aware of the buzz of the machine working, of the numbers getting higher and higher, but he can’t ease his grip.

“It’s a rush, isn’t it? He's willing to give you anything and the more you take, the more you realize it's not enough. You wonder how far he'd let you go.”

The machine clicks off, the car tank full. Scott returns the nozzle to its hook. He’s coiled so tight he could snap.

“How long will the things he wants be enough for you? You’ve got a taste for it now. The pain. The power. Admit it, Scott, you need more.”

Blood pounds in his ears.

_“It’s ok, Scott. This is who you were meant to be.”_

“Scott?”

The car rocks as Derek closes the door. Scott spins to face him, and finds Derek watching him with concerned eyes.

“Did you – ” Scott glances over his shoulder, but Deucalion’s figure is gone.

The crease in Derek’s forehead deepens.

“Never mind. I thought I heard… but it’s nothing.”

“Ok,” Derek says, slowly. He holds up his wallet. “I’ll sort this out.”

Scott looks back over his shoulder again. There’s no sign Deucalion was ever there

He gets into the car and closes the door. His hands are shaking. Deucalion was so close and they were so unprepared. He could have done anything to them. They would have been almost defenceless. It doesn’t make sense, Scott thinks. All he wanted was to talk?

To talk about things he shouldn’t have known. Scott hasn’t told anyone about Derek and this undefined thing between them. He certainly hasn’t spoken of his fears, though he’s constantly aware of the thin line they walk between synergy and ruin. He clings to that line, but within the darkest parts of himself is the knowledge that eventually, he’s going to cross it. _This is who you were meant to be._

This is exactly why they need to stop.

Outside, Derek files change back into his wallet, paused outside the shop’s automatic doors. Scott watches him, and lets his breath even out. Derek was always Deucalion’s target. If Deucalion is trying to get inside Scott’s head, it must mean he sees Scott as a threat. _Good_ , Scott thinks, as panic hardens into furious resolve. It means Deucalion understands who he’s dealing with.

_I’m not really the one you’re scared will hurt him._

The sound of the engine starting chases away that ghost of a thought. Scott’s still staring out the window at the place Derek was standing half a minute earlier. Reflected in the glass, he sees Derek shoot a silent glance his way as he leans back in the driver’s seat. Scott ignores it, and after a moment Derek hits the accelerator, turning his attention back to the road.

“Do you think some people are innately violent?” Scott asks.

“What?”

Scott shrugs. “I mean… Peter. Deucalion. They’re so driven by the desire to do harm. Do you think that’s just who they are? Are some people born to thrive on violence and pain?”

“I don’t know what makes anyone the way they are.” Derek sighs. “Why are you asking me? I trust the wrong people.”

Scott steals a glance at him. “Do you think so?”

On the side of the road, houses have started thinning out, replaced by greenery. Scott always liked the way the trees seem to guide him home.

“Am I wrong?” Scott asks. His voice is soft, but not enough for Derek to miss it. Scott thinks he’ll pretend he did anyway.

“Left or right here?” Derek asks.

“Left.”

Scott, in turn, pretends not to notice he’s already started indicating.

Derek says, “You’re the only one who knows that for sure.”

He stops the car outside Scott’s house. There’s a beat of silence, and Scott reaches for the door.

“For what it’s worth,” Derek says, without looking at him, “there are some mistakes I don’t regret making.”

He catches Scott’s free hand in his, running his fingers along Scott’s knuckles. His hand is warmer than Scott would have thought. Warmer than usual. Scott should pull away, but he doesn’t. He’s caught staring into Derek’s eyes.

“I make mistakes too,” he says.

Derek’s touch moves to his wrist, tracing its contours.

“Do you regret them?”

And Scott kisses him. Their lips crash together like flames igniting, heat and oxygen and friction turning into something destructive and essential. Scott’s fingers wrap around the nape of Derek’s neck, dragging him closer. Derek’s arms wind around his waist.

 _Don’t go,_ Scott wants to say. _I need this. Don’t go._

Reality, responsibility – it’s all crowding in on Scott, he can feel it pressing against his skin. They need to stop before this tears them apart.

Derek gasps against his lips. Scott kisses him harder.

He could twist a hand in Derek’s hair, leave bite marks along Derek’s neck - he imagines the delicious little whimpers Derek would let out. It’d be easy to drag Derek inside. No one’s home, they wouldn’t even have to make it upstairs to his room. Hell, Derek would probably let Scott fuck him right here in the car. He wants all of it. He wants everything.

He cups Derek’s face in his hands, slowing the kiss. The world is still one match strike away from burning. Scott still wants to tell Derek not to go.

They break apart slowly, bit by bit. Their faces hover together, each of them stealing the other’s air until they have nothing left to give. Finally, they ease away. Scott sits with his eyes closed, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Neither of them says anything. This time, Derek doesn’t stop him when he reaches for the door.

As Derek starts up the car, Scott feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He ignores it, watching Derek pull out. He can’t make out a face behind the tinted glass, but he doesn’t move, staring after the car as it disappears down the road.

When the street is still and silent again, Scott gets out his phone. The message is from Derek. It’s just one word.

_Monday?_

Scott smiles. His insides feel heavy, everything twisted out of place, and he’s going to ride this train until it crashes. He slings his bag over his shoulder and heads inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Curled around each other in Derek’s sheets, rain hitting the window outside, it feels to Scott like they could be the only two people left on earth. He runs a hand up and down Derek’s bicep and sighs against his chest. Derek’s hands are linked in the small of Scott’s back. Scott isn’t sure if he’s trying to keep the world away or only holding them together.

The world isn’t pressing in on Scott’s shoulders now, though. It’s the cold, minute space between him and Derek that scares him.

“What is it?” Derek asks.

The air’s stillness should make this moment timeless, but Scott feels everything that’s happened between them so heavily.

“When I made you give Gerard the bite, this isn’t what it was about.” He suddenly needs Derek to understand. “I didn’t want power over you that I had to take by force.”

Derek sighs. “We’ve talked about this, Scott…”

“No, we haven’t. Not really.” Scott says. “I didn’t want you like that. Not thinking I’d screwed you over, not helpless even to struggle. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t _like_ it.”

Derek is silent for a long time.

 “I could tell how much you wanted me. You still want me like that. I see it every time you look at me.”

Something wound tightly inside Scott snaps. He feels it right down to the base of his spine. In one motion, he rolls them until he’s on top of Derek, legs braced on either side of him. Both of them are breathing hard. Their eyes lock. Derek brings his arms above his head for Scott to pin.

“I want you like _this_ ,” Scott says, pressing him into the mattress. “I don’t want to use you against your will, I hated that. I want you submitting.”

He grinds down, rubbing against Derek’s cock. Derek lets out a sharp exhale.

“Is this okay?” Scott asks.

“Yes,” Derek grits out, scowling.

Scott pauses, and then grinds down again, this time slower. He leans in close.

“Let me rephrase,” he says. And maybe there’s a sharp edge to his voice, but he doesn’t think it will cut. “Do you like this? Do you want it?”

Derek’s eyes are dark. He doesn’t answer. Scott doesn’t think that _is_ his answer but he stops moving. Loosens his grip for Derek to pull away. Derek gives a frustrated grunt and thrusts up against him.

“Tell me you want this,” Scott insists.

“Yes,” Derek pants, his scowl breaking. “I want this. Please, Scott. I want you.”

Scott tightens his grip on Derek’s arms again. He moves one of his legs between Derek’s and drags his thigh across Derek’s cock.

“That’s what I want from you, Derek. I want you begging me to touch you. I want you desperate and arching under me, I want you surrendering control. And I want to make you feel good. I want… I _need_ you to want it too.”

Derek moans, soft and breathy. His hips lift off the bed in helpless jerks as he seeks friction. Scott presses his thigh down and lets him have it.

“I have to know that you’ll tell me if you don’t. Do you understand, Derek? We can’t keep doing this if you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you.”

Derek’s eyes fluttered closed. His heart is beating erratically, but then Scott’s heart is nearly matching it. He strokes his thumb over Derek’s wrist, their pulses thrumming against each other as if in competition. Or perhaps more like an emerging bond. Derek shudders.

“Promise me,” Scott says. He blames the urgent note in his voice on the sight of Derek’s flushed skin, his soft whimpers as he falls apart under Scott.

“I trust you,” Derek says. “I _need_ you. Please, Scott, I swear…”

“Come for me,” Scott breathes.

Derek gives a strangled cry. He convulses, and Scott’s lips part in awe as he _does_ , semen pooling between them and clinging to Scott’s thigh. Scott’s grip stays firm around Derek’s wrists, holding him safe through his orgasm.

Derek slumps back against the bed and after a moment Scott rolls off him. Scott’s hard and pressed up against Derek’s hip, but when Derek tries to get up Scott pushes him back. He’ll do something about it later. They’ll need to clean up too. It can wait. He rests his head on Derek’s chest and gently tugs one of Derek’s arms down to wrap around his shoulders.

“Was that okay?” Scott asks.

“Yeah,” Derek says.

 The rise and fall of his chest feels too loud even for the large room. Outside, the rain has stopped.

 

*

 

On the rare nights neither Scott or Melissa is busy, they cook dinner together. It’s a new tradition, and Scott’s not totally sure how it began, but the simple act of peeling potatoes with his mom dicing tomatoes beside him settles a persistent prickling in his nerves. They talk about all sorts of things – Scott’s homework, Melissa’s last shift, how much Scott misses lacrosse since the season ended. Sometimes Scott talks about the Alpha pack, and his fears over when they might resurface. He sees the way Melissa’s mouth goes tight, but she asks him what they know for sure, and nods along as Scott talks through his jumbled thoughts.

“Your father and I used to cook together, sometimes,” Melissa says, one night.

Scott looks up at her, trying not to seem too startled.

“It’s been a long time,” she adds, mostly to herself. Her face is slanted down, and Scott can’t tell if she’s smiling or not. She shakes her head. “Before you were born, mostly. I’d almost forgotten. He sliced carrots while I peeled potatoes and kept an eye on the pan. We’d share the onions though, because neither of us wanted to do it. He used to ask me about my day.” She snorts, pushing a strand of hair back from her face. “He’d never talk about his. I don’t miss that. It got lonely after a while.”

Scott’s silent, not sure what a neutral response would be.

“It’s hard when someone won’t open up to you,” he tries, carefully.

“It’s hard keeping things to yourself, too.” Melissa glances over at him. “You know you can tell me anything, right, Scott?”

Scott’s mind flashes to Derek. He swallows. He’s closer to his mother than he’s ever been, and finally opening up about so many other things makes hiding this all the harder. Sometimes he thinks about Derek, and he thinks about telling her, and his mind whispers, _maybe_. Maybe it would be okay. It scares him though. He doesn’t want to see pity on his mother’s face, or worse, anger. In his head he tries to explain it, imagines finding an arrangement of words that even gets _close_ to making someone else understand what they have between them. His mind whispers, _maybe_.

Scott smiles up at her.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything.”

 

*

 

He's on his way to Derek's place when the crash happens. All he sees is a blur of movement, someone stepping out in front of his bike without warning, and in the split second before they collide Scott thinks, /it's like they did it on purpose/. He opens his eyes to two identical faces leering down at him.

"We have a message for you," Aiden says.

Scott doesn't want to get up. He barely wants to be conscious.

"Was that it?" he asks.

Someone behind them laughs. The twins step back and Scott's stomach drops as someone else crouches beside him. Dry comments probably won’t be enough to get him out of this. 

"Actually," Deucalion says, "this is."

Slowly, he takes off his glasses. His eyes are burning red behind them. Scott feels a tug inside his chest and his eyes glow in answer.

 

*

 

"Strip," Scott says.

It's the first thing he says, slamming the door shut behind him. Even so, Derek doesn't hesitate.

There's a frantic energy in the air, and god, Scott needs this. Derek is as willing as ever, but somehow it doesn't feel like enough. Scott loosens his belt and winds it around his fingers.

"Get on your knees and beg me for it."

His encounter with Deucalion is still buzzing in his head.

Derek folds up at his feet. Lacking more specific instructions, Derek is expected to use his initiative, and usually Scott would be touched by such an intimate gesture. Tonight it feels like insolence. He grabs Derek by the hair and jerks his head back.

"Please," Derek says. "Anything you want, Scott. Let me give it to you. Use me."

The words are old, but the tone is new. Derek sounds shaken, almost scared; he sounds like he likes it. Scott wonders if he'd mind if he didn't.

"Tell me you're mine," Scott growls.

"Yours. Only yours, Scott."

It doesn't settle the clawing inside his chest.

Scott lets go of Derek's hair and pushes his head forward, exposing his shoulders. Derek gasps. He doesn't struggle though, and the more he yields, the more Scott wants to push.

"Ready?" he asks.

Without waiting for an answer, he brings the belt down on Derek's back. Derek cries out - Scott's not sure if it's more for the pain or the shock - and looks for a second like he might cringe away.

"Derek."

Derek stills.

"Good," Scott says. His voice doesn't sound any less dangerous, though.

He brings the belt down again, and this time Derek is ready for it. The sound he makes is a lot closer to pleasure than the last one. Scott likes it, and yet he misses the rawness of Derek's surprise. It's not the first time they've done this, but in the past it's only ever been Derek who asked. This feels different. Scott hits him harder.

_It's a rush, isn't it?_ Deucalion’s voice echoes in his head. Derek whimpers. He twitches like he's fighting a flinch. _He's willing to give you anything and the more you take, the more you realize it's not enough. You wonder how far he'd let you go._ Scott's eyes are glowing again. The pounding of his own heart echoes in his ears and he can't think through the haze of power and longing. His chest is so tight it hurts. _It's okay, Scott. This is who you were meant to be_.

"Stop," Derek says. “Scott. Stop.”

Scott's breath catches. The thrill of power is humming through his veins and this is _it_. A stranger's voice in his mind whispers that this is what he was searching for. _Stop_ , Derek said, and the aching hunger that's been driving Scott can finally be sated. All he has to do is keep going. Derek won't stop him, the voice whispers. Scott can force him to take it. Scott might even be able to make him like it. The desire to try is overwhelming. He _needs_ it.

Scott drops the belt and stumbles backwards, shaking.

"I- I'm sorry," he says, sinking to the floor. "I'm so sorry. Are you- Derek, are you-"

"Shh. I'm fine, Scott. It's okay."

Scott gasps for breath. He feels a hand on his shoulder and tilts his head up, searching for Derek's eyes. His vision blurs until he can't see anything. His chest is tight and no matter how much air he gulps down, he still feels like he's suffocating.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, still gasping. "I should be... What do you need?"

"Slower," Derek says.

Scott doesn't understand what he means until Derek guides one of Scott's hands to his chest and takes a long, deep breath. He holds it for a moment and then breathes out again, just as slow. Scott does his best to mimic him.

"That's it," Derek says.

He shifts closer, leaning in until their foreheads are pressed together. Keeping up the steady, rhythmic breathing, he slides Scott's hand over his shoulders and onto his back. Scott feels raised welts there, and something that might be blood. He hadn't meant to do that.

"Keep breathing," Derek says.

He falls silent, and a moment later, the injuries are disappearing under Scott's touch. Scott stays there, breathing in time with Derek, until Derek pulls back.

"Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Scott echoes. "Derek, I-" He shakes his head. "I can't believe I did that. I was- I should never have pushed so far. I shouldn't have even come here."

Derek places a hand over Scott's.

"I told you, I'm fine. I didn't stop you because it was too much for me."

"What?"

Scott looks up, and this time, his eyes find Derek's.

"You weren't yourself. You seemed... agitated. Unhappy. Like something was wrong. I asked you to stop because I was scared it was too much for you."

"Oh," Scott says.

Softly, Derek asks, "Was I right?"

Scott sighs and draws his free hand around himself. "I could have really hurt you," he says.

Derek shakes his head. "You stopped when I asked you to. And I wouldn't have let that happen."

His brows furrow in concern, so Scott guesses he didn't miss Scott avoiding his question. When Scott looks away though, all he says is, "Come on. Are you okay to stand? Let's go to bed."

He makes Scott drink a glass of water before they lie down. Scott feels more bereft than he wants to admit when Derek leaves the room to get it, but he sits obediently on the bed and allows himself to be taken care of. Afterwards, Derek curls up on his side and pulls Scott against his chest. They lie in silence for a while, and the small movements Derek makes as he drifts towards sleep are a familiar comfort to Scott.

Scott doesn't want to disturb him. He can't stop dwelling on what happened, though. Derek deserves to understand it. The truth is, Scott doesn't want to keep this to himself.

"There was... Something happened on my way here," he says. He keeps his voice soft so he won't wake Derek if he's already asleep. "I ran into Deucalion."

Derek stiffens. Awake, then.

"Did he hurt you?"

"I'm not sure. He did... something. His eyes glowed and... It was a bit like when I was first turned, when Peter was trying control me. I felt overwhelmingly powerful and helpless at the same time. I wanted... I wanted to hurt someone. Everything's such a blur, though. The next thing I remember, I was at your apartment."

"He was in your head?"

"I don't think... No. Maybe at first? I'm not sure if I'd be able to tell. If he was, he was gone by the time I got here."

Maybe he can hear the strain in Scott's voice, because Derek doesn't respond immediately. When he does, Scott can tell he's wary, despite his carefully neutral tone.

"What makes you say that?"

"I think he wanted me in control when I saw you. He wanted me to know what I was capable of."

"Scott?"

Scott curls tighter in on himself. He half expects Derek to pull back, but he doesn't.

"He spoke to me, a while back. I’m sorry, I should have… Anyway. He talked like he wanted us to be friends. Like we were the same. I don't remember everything he said, but the gist was..." _This is who you were meant to be._ "I guess he didn't think I would stop."

Derek kisses his shoulder.

"But you did."

"Yeah," Scott says.

He’s not sure it’s enough.

“C’mon. Go to sleep.” Derek says. “We’re both okay. We can kick some alpha butt tomorrow.”

Scott smiles despite himself. He closes his eyes, and feels lighter. 


	7. Chapter 7

Scott pulls up outside his house in the late afternoon. He lets out a breath as he shuts off his bike’s engine, the world around him getting a little quieter. Today was long, but only in a slow, peaceful kind of way. His muscles ache and it feels good.  He runs a hand over his bike as he dismounts.

It’s almost a month since Deucalion’s latest act of interference, and Scott still gets jittery if he’s out alone like this for too long. The first time he’d gotten back on the bike after the attack, threads of anxiety had coiled in his gut. A voice of concern that wouldn’t shut up. Derek, about to go back inside, had paused and frowned at him, and Scott felt his jaw tighten. This was the clearest kind of joy he had: the bike beneath him working like another limb, the roar of his engine shutting everything else out. He’d be damned if he’d let Deucalion taint that too. He’d smiled back at Derek through his clenched teeth and pulled his helmet on. Resistance in the details. He uses his anger, and each time he gets back on, he remembers the fear a little less.

This morning, he left the loft early. Derek wasn’t even out of bed yet, and Scott kissed his sleepy smile as he dragged himself out from under the covers.

“Coffee?” Derek mumbled, eyeing the world outside his bed with suspicion. 

“It’s okay. I’m meeting Stiles, remember? Go back to sleep.”

He pulled on some clothes and made vague promises about when they’d see each other next. Tomorrow or the day after – sometime soon. These past weeks have been like that. No concrete plans, and yet they always seemed to end up together.

“I should probably spend _one_ night out of seven at home, though,” Scott said with a wry grin.

Derek mumbled something unintelligible and let his head flop back onto the pillow. It made Scott want to kiss him all over again, or brush the hair back from his face.

“I’ll see you,” he murmured.

Scott went for a jog before he swung by Stiles’ place, hoping for a chance to change gears. In the time after Scott was moping around missing Derek, Stiles had made good on his threats to forcibly hang out with him, and it turned out to be exactly what Scott needed. He shouldn’t be surprised. Whatever’s going on in his life, whatever new disaster he’s dealing with, it’s always better with Stiles there making fun of it.

Still, he and Stiles don’t see eye to eye on everything. There are some things they just… aren’t talking about.

Pulling up outside Stiles’ house in the morning, Scott was looking forward to long hours spent doing nothing important with his best friend. He wasn’t looking forward to the moment after Stiles answered the door, the moment where they would look at each other with their teeth on edge and the things they aren’t talking about a wall between them. A moment. Experience suggested it would only be a moment, but there was always a chance this would be the day the dam broke.

Scott knocked, and the door opened. Stiles looked him up and down.

“Is that Derek’s sweater?”

Scott flushed. It was a little broad on him, but not by much, and he’d been wearing it a lot lately. He hadn’t even thought about it when he put it on.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You look like you’re dressed to go fishing,” he said. He was smiling a little though, like he was trying to take the sting out of it.

Scott shrugged and smiled back. “So let’s go fishing then.”

Stiles gave him a long look, and then sighed. “Why not?”

Scott grinned. He was grateful – is always grateful – for Stiles’ tenacity concerning their friendship. He was even more grateful for Stiles’ newfound restraint.

“Maybe your sweater will fall in,” Stiles added, darkly.

“I guess that’d be fair,” Scott said, mock pensive, “given how many times _you’ve_ fallen in.”

The door to his house creaks as Scott pushes it open. Now that it’s late in the day and the air is cooling, he takes a moment to be grateful that _neither_ of them fell into the water. They also hadn’t caught any fish but, well, that was never really the point.

“Scott?” Melissa calls from the living room. It might be Scott’s imagination, but he thinks her voice sounds strained. He checks his watch. Usually this time on a Saturday, she’s still running errands.

“Mom?” he calls back. He sets his helmet down on kitchen counter and peers around the door frame. “What is it?”

Melissa is sitting with her back to the door. There’s an empty mug on the coffee table and it makes Scott wonder how long she’s been waiting for him. She doesn’t turn around.

“Mom?” he repeats, softer now.

He approaches cautiously, aware of her eyes tracking him as he comes into view.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” she says, once he’s seated in the chair opposite her. “Where were you today?”

Scott frowns. “I went fishing with Stiles. I’m sorry, my battery died, but I thought you knew I’d be out. Is everything - ”

“And last night? When you told me you were studying at Derek’s place?”

“What? Where else would I go?” Scott’s fidgeting in place, he knows it, but he can’t make himself stop. “What’s this about, Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Allison dropped by today. Looking for you.” Melissa presses her lips together. “Apparently she’s been out of town for two weeks.”

She pauses, like Scott’s supposed to do something with that. Like it’s supposed to mean something to him. Scott watches her, waiting for her to elaborate. He tries to keep his expression neutral.

Melissa sighs. “Really, Scott? I know Derek’s a cover. You’ve been lying about how much time you spend with him. I let it go because I thought you’d tell me when you were ready, but… I thought it was Allison again. If it’s not her, who are you seeing that you don’t want me to know about?”

Scott’s pulse, racing more with every word, abruptly quiets.

“Why do you think I’m seeing someone?”

“Scott, you’re my son. I know you. I know what it looks like when you’re in love.”

“ _What?_ That’s not – I’m _not._ ”

“You’re telling me you’re not in a relationship?”

“I - ” Scott falters. The kicker is, he’s not. He and Derek _aren’t_ together, not in the way she means, but it still feels like a lie to deny it. Scott’s so tired of lying. He’s been hiding this for so long and she already _knew._ Knew something, at least. Suddenly, every part of him feels weightless. Awareness of what he’s about to do hits him before he does it, but he can’t seem to stop.

“I was with Derek,” he says, quietly. “I wasn’t lying about that.”

He lets the words hang in the air, waiting for them to sink in. Melissa stares at him, and Scott can see it in her eyes, the moment it takes before they go wide, before her mouth goes dangerously thin.

“Derek,” she says.

“Mom, it’s not-” What she thinks? _It’s not like he’s in love with me or anything. It’s just about meeting certain needs._ Scott almost wants to laugh. _I have a thing for control and he’s only too happy to give it up. Maybe that’s me tying him up and hurting him or just fucking him until he’s not sure what he’s begging for any more. It’s just sex. Nothing to worry about._

“He would never hurt me,” he tries.

“Scott, he already hurts you.” Melissa looks away. “I’m sorry, I should have seen it sooner. Every fight, every call for help, every time he drags you into his world instead of shielding you from it… He’s an adult who should be protecting you, but he’s been manipulating you into putting yourself in danger over and over again.”

“Mom, no! It’s not like that! We- we’re a team. We have each other’s backs and- and he does protect me.” Scott leans forward, like somehow he can make her understand. “It’s just that he trusts me to protect him too.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.” She leans forward too, reaching for his hand. “I’m so sorry, but this isn’t real. I know you think you love him but-”

“But I don’t think that!” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, denial an automatic defense. Melissa’s eyebrows draw together and god, Scott can’t explain what’s really going on, he just _can’t._ “I- I mean- I care about him, of course.” He swallows. “He’s… he’s kind and brave and… and he stands up for the things he cares about. I mean, we care about the same things, so…” He wavers, struggling to ignore his mother’s skeptical expression. “We used to fight a lot, but now… it’s different, now. I think we understand each other.”

Scott straightens, drawing himself up. It’s true. For so long, everything between them was just conflict and desire, opposing tensions tearing them apart. Now when Scott pictures Derek’s face, it’s not twisted up in anger mid-argument or flushed with pleasure. He sees Derek smiling at him, soft and unguarded, or raising both eyebrows as he teases Scott and then laughs at his retort.

“He likes poetry,” Scott says, abruptly. It surprised him at first, but Derek’s insights on Coleridge made writing his last essay almost bearable. “He hates cooking, but he actually likes washing up afterwards. He says he finds it peaceful. And he has this dry sense of humor that always makes me…”

Scott trails off. His mother is just watching him, a quiet, assessing look on her face, and Scott can’t read the verdict.

“But you’re not in love,” she says. Flat. Just shy of sarcasm.

Scott takes a slow breath.

“Maybe I’m just not ready to say it.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Mom, please - ” He doesn't want to hear this.

Melissa squeezes his hand.

“You’ve got such a good heart, Scott. You want to see the best in everyone, I know, but sometimes you have to take care of yourself first. You’re already killing yourself trying to save this town, and then you have Allison coming around trying to tell you-” She cuts herself off sharply.

“What?” Scott stiffens. “Trying to tell me what, Mom?”

“No, Scott. We’re talking about this now. You can’t keep running off after everyone else and letting yourself fall apart.”

Scott stares at her. “Something’s wrong.” His skin prickles, and suddenly all his senses are on high alert. The room gets brighter, louder, so intense it’s overpowering. “What’s going on? You have to tell me.”

Melissa’s lips tighten. “It’s not your responsibility.”

Scott stands, snatching his hand back from under hers.

“Fine. I’ll find Allison instead.” His mind is racing, running through all the possible problems he could be facing and all the people he needs to call. Allison. Stiles. Derek.

Melissa gets to her feet too, moving to block his exit.

“Mom, _please_.” Scott squares his shoulders. “Either tell me what’s going on, or get out of my way.”

Melissa’s eyes are shuttered. Her heartbeat cuts through the silence of the room. Scott holds his ground, hoping desperately that she won’t fight him on this. He can’t imagine what’s going through her head.

Finally, she sighs.

“Allison knows Deucalion’s next target.” Her voice is clipped, like even as she’s saying it, she regrets it. “But Scott, she said she would handle it. You don’t have to get involved.”

“Who’s the target?”

Melissa doesn’t answer.

“Allison is just as vulnerable as I am. Why don’t you want me to help her?”

“Don’t twist my words, Scott.”

_“Who?”_

“Someone who can take care of himself,” Melissa snaps.

Scott freezes.

“Derek.”

Every other thought grinds to a halt. Deucalion is about to attack Derek and Scott is standing in his living room arguing with his mother.

“I have to go.”

“Scott!” Melissa protests, but Scott is already pushing past her.

He reaches for his phone, but of course, it’s still dead. It doesn’t matter. There’s no point in calling. Either Allison has already warned Derek or she couldn’t find him and it’s even more urgent that Scott does. He goes for the keys to his motorcycle instead, grabbing his helmet off the counter as he passes it.

“Scott, _stop_.”

Scott looks back at her, her face pale in the dim, artificial light of the living room.

“I love you,” he says. He wishes his life didn’t always have to be this way. “I’ll be home soon.”

The front door bangs shut behind him.

Scott’s not crying, but as his bike races through the twilight, his chest heaves as though he is. He tries to steady himself, holding tight to the handlebars, holding tight to the hours old memory of Derek smiling as kissed him in the morning.

All of the conflicts between them, the push and pull trying to find some kind of balance, the tension and desire and unspoken words - none of it matters now.  His fight with his mother buzzes in the back of his mind, but that’s unimportant too. Whatever is between he and Derek now and whatever it could be is nothing to making sure Derek is okay.

It creeps into his thoughts anyway. Maybe the looming threat Deucalion presents drags everything else up. Because the truth about Scott and Derek is that they’ve been pushing against each other so long that Scott can’t tell what’s conflict and what’s desire any more, and the truth is, Scott's scared. He’s tried burying the thoughts Deucalion put into his head, but Derek would do anything he asked him to, would take anything he gave him, and sometimes Scott’s not sure himself what he wants. What he’s capable of.  

Wind whips around him. Scott flattens the accelerator.

All he can do is trust that Derek will stop him if he ever goes too far. He would – Scott’s almost sure he would. But the truth about Scott and Derek is that Scott would do anything for Derek too, and maybe that scares Derek just as badly. Strange how adrenaline makes everything seem so clear. If they both need to get better at finding their boundaries, maybe it’s something they can work on together. Maybe Scott can tell him that, when he finds him.

Whatever his mother thinks, Scott knows Derek would never let anything happen to him. He doesn’t even expect anything in return for that. Scott can’t think too hard about what it means, not now, but he knows Derek would protect him even if he did walk away from it all: from this world, from Beacon Hills, from whatever it is that’s between them. And in that, they’re the same, because Scott will do whatever it takes to keep Derek safe. That’s the thought that fills his mind as he finally, _finally_ pulls up outside Derek’s building. It’s all he can focus on as he races up the stairs.

From outside Derek’s door, Scott hears breathing and heartbeats. It’s silent other than that, no movement, no speech. That wouldn’t be strange, except that there’s more than one person inside. Scott freezes. Everything smells wrong, and he can’t pick out Derek’s pulse. He’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not.

Before Scott can decide what to do, the door flies open. Ennis and Kali smirk at him from the doorway. On the lounge, Deucalion uncrosses his arms.

“Scott. What a pleasant surprise. I was just thinking you and I were overdue for a chat.”

 

*

 

The world spins before Scott’s eyes. Everything hurts and there’s a hole in his ribs making it impossible to draw breath. His chest cavity is drowning in his own blood. _I’m going to die_ , he thinks. He should be panicking but panic requires oxygen and all Scott feels is a terrifying, deadly calm.

_“You’ve been denying yourself, Scott. Don’t fight it. Give in.”_

Deucalion’s hand cards through his hair and he’s saying something else, something Scott hears but can’t parse. Sharp sparks of pain flood his system.

_“This is who you are. You’ll understand soon. I can help you.”_

He keeps talking, his voice a silky thread Scott can’t help trying to follow. Comprehension ebbs and flows, but Scott hears all of it, and maybe he’d be able to sort it out later, if there was going to be a later. If he wasn’t going to die.

And then, a blessing and a curse, Kali draws the pole out of him. He collapses onto Derek’s floor, blood pooling around him. The floor is cold – Scott thinks it must be cold. At least, he’s shivering as the sound of footsteps die away. With a hysterical kind of black humor that would make Stiles proud, Scott thinks, _I should have called ahead._ It’s his last thought before everything goes dark.

 

*

 

He wakes to Derek’s hand on his wound and his wide eyes staring down at him. He’s shouting something into a phone – _can’t reach Deaton… no, go to the clinic, you have to get… whatever it takes, Stiles, he’s dying –_ and it takes him a moment to register Scott’s eyes are open. As soon as he does, he drops the phone, reaching out instead for Scott’s hand.

“Scott,” Derek breathes.

Scott smiles at him, though it’s an effort. He can’t muster the strength to squeeze Derek’s hand back. It hurts to be awake and Scott doesn’t want to do it much longer.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Derek mutters, stroking his thumb over Scott’s. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“You’ve got me,” Scott echoes.  

He keeps his eyes on Derek’s face as long as he can.

When he wakes the next time, Stiles is there too. Scott thinks they might have given him something because his whole brain feels cloudy and sensation is dulled. Maybe it’s just blood loss.

Stiles and Derek stop the bleeding, though. They do their best to be gentle, but pain shoots through him every time one of them jostles him. He scratches the table feebly and clenches his eyes shut, drifting in and out of consciousness as they work.

Eventually his wound is bandaged. He comes back to himself to find Derek and Stiles huddled together on the other side of the room, talking in hushed voices. Scott tries to prop himself up on his elbow, but his limbs refuse to work. His muscles spasm at the attempt and he can’t help a choked off gasp of pain. It’s soft enough not to disturb the other two – it occurs to him it might not be their first time hearing it. Scott lets out a weary breath and he gives up, eyes falling shut again. Stiles and Derek’s conversation washes over him.

“Do you think I don’t know what’s going on between you two?” Stiles hisses.

Derek makes a warning noise, and Stiles scoffs.

“If you’re worried I’ll go running to my dad, you haven’t given this enough thought.” He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, and Scott can hear his bared teeth.  “I could be so much more creative.”

Derek snorts. There’s a scratch of fabric as he folds his arms. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Do you know what Scott said, when he told me?” Stiles snaps. “He said that he thought you could be good for each other. That he _cares_ about you.”

Scott tenses. The conversation had come right after the day Derek picked him up from school. Scott did promise to explain, and of course Stiles couldn’t let it go. After, though, he’d had been unusually reticent about sharing his thoughts.

“ _It… he_ _steadies me,_ ” Scott had said, avoiding Stiles’ gaze. “ _I hope it helps him too._ ” Stiles grunted noncommittally and stole a fry from Scott’s plate. They hadn’t spoken about it since.

“You’re lucky I generally trust that Scott knows what he’s doing. Because if I thought you were doing _anything_ to hurt him -”

“I don’t care,” Derek snarls. “Whatever you’re about to threaten, I don’t _care._ I just found Scott half-dead on my floor, bleeding out from a fucking hole in his chest. You want to threaten me? Go ahead, I’d love to hear what you think could possibly be worse than that.”

There’s a long pause. Scott’s heart beat is deafening in the silence, and it’s a wonder Derek doesn’t notice.

Quietly, Stiles says, “He could have been dead.”

_This isn’t his fault_ , Scott tries to say, but his body still won’t give him a break. He’s almost glad though, because the next words off his tongue would have to be, _I’m the one who could hurt him._

Everything Deucalion has been trying to tell him is finally falling into place.

_It’s who you are, Scott. Your body is just catching up to something that’s been true all along._

Scott is an Alpha – a True Alpha, whatever that means. Maybe not yet, but he will be. The call of power thrums in Scott’s veins, and at his core, Scott is someone who must take it by any means necessary. The thought sickens him, but it makes sense. Conflict and desire… The truth about Scott and Derek is that they’re equal forces, but Scott’s never the one to yield.

“Stiles,” Scott forces out.

Both heads snap towards him. A second later Stiles is at his side.

“Scotty.” Stiles gives him a complicated sort of smile. “It’s okay, Deucalion’s gone. You should be starting to heal soon.”

“I know,” Scott says.

Derek hangs back, watching Scott anxiously from a few feet away. He looks as though he wants to come closer but isn’t sure he’d be welcome.

“I’ll stay with you until you can walk. Then I’m taking you home,” Stiles says.

Scott shakes his head – a sluggish, swaying movement he regrets immediately as pain shoots up his neck.

“I’m staying. Derek and I have to talk.”

Stiles looks doubtful. “It can’t wait?”

In the background, Derek shifts uncomfortably.

“It’s important,” Scott says.

Stiles goes to move away and Scott lifts a hand to stop him. It’s not the elegant wrist-grab Scott was aiming for, but this is Stiles, so he recognizes Scott’s intention. He stops where he is.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Don’t tell Mom what happened.”

“I would never,” Stiles says.

“Don’t lie either,” Scott adds, because he knows that look and the story Stiles is coming up with is not even remotely plausible. “Just tell her... tell her I’m with you, and that everything’s ok.”

Stiles and Derek are both looking at him, and he can feel their unease. He ignores it. His mom will worry either way, it’s the best he can do. He tries to remember what else he has to take care of.

“Allison.” Scott almost tries to sit up again. “You have to call her, she can’t go after Deucalion. Tell her it’s over. Tell her – ”

“It’s fine, Scott, she knows.” Stiles holds his hands up between them. “She’s got her eye on the Alpha pack, but she’s keeping a safe distance, I swear.”

Scott hesitates.

“You spoke to her?”

“When she couldn’t find you or Derek, and it became obvious Deucalion’s plan was already in motion, she started mobilizing the rest of us. She called me right after Derek did.”

Scott bites his lip. “So everyone else is safe? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent,” Stiles says, with a tiny smile.

Scott nods, and carefully lets his muscles unwind.

“Anything else?” Stiles asks.

“Uh. Just… don’t go yet. If that’s…?”

Stiles moves closer.

“It’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

After half a second, he takes Scott’s hand.

Scott’s gaze swings over to Derek. He means to ask Derek the same thing: _Stay with me. Just for a while. I’m okay, I’ll be okay again soon, but please, stay._ When he meets Derek’s gaze, though, the words stick in his throat. The uncertainty on Derek’s face hurts to look at, and maybe it’s fear of rejection, but Deucalion’s parting words ring in Scott’s ears. Like he’s just stepped into an awful, twisted parallel universe, he sees Derek’s fear as something else entirely. It becomes cold and urgent, coaxed out of him in lesson after brutal lesson, and all for Scott. _You’re going to tear him to pieces, Scott. You’re going to like it._

The world shifts back into focus. Seeing Scott’s eyes on him, Derek pushes his uncertainty away. He smiles and shifts a little closer.

“Hey,” he says.

Scott forces a smile in return. “Hey.”

In the back of Scott’s mind, a low voice echoes. _You’re going to tear him apart._


	8. Chapter 8

The final time Scott comes to that night, he’s lying in Derek’s bed. Derek’s asleep beside him, curled up over the covers, a careful line of space between them. Stiles is there too, passed out a few feet away on Derek’s couch.

Scott tests his range of movements, warily easing the cover off himself and sitting up. He can feel the pull on his insides, but the pain isn’t too bad. Getting to his feet proves more challenging, but eventually he’s up and stable. He limps out to the kitchen, nominally to get a glass of water. It’s mostly just for something to do.

His hands shake around the cup, but water tastes like the sweetest kind of relief washing down his throat. Maybe he was thirstier than he realised. He stands in the kitchen a long time, leaning on the bench and trying to keep his mind blank. The things Deucalion told him are blurring into each other, but even if he tried, he couldn’t forget them. A cold weight of dread settles inside him. He clenches his teeth against the knowledge of what he has to do.

When Scott pads back in to the lounge room, Stiles is watching him. Scott gives him a tired smile and jabs a thumb towards the door, not wanting to wake Derek. They’ve all had a long day. Stiles grabs his keys off the table and follows Scott out.

“You didn’t have to wait around so long. When I asked you to stay, I only meant…”

“As if I was going to leave,” Stiles interrupts, rolling his eyes. He drops his gaze to Scott’s torso. “How does it feel? Any better?”

Scott nods. “It’s still sore, but I’m not passing out any more.”

“Or bleeding out,” Stiles mutters.

“It’s a start.”

Scott chews his bottom lip, looking down and letting the silence build. He’s not sure if he wants to talk about this, but he thinks it might help. When he tries, though, he has no idea where to start.

Stiles puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“So are you going to tell me what he said to you?”

“What?”

“Deucalion. You’re all…” He waves a hand. “Martyr-y. Like you’re about to do something no one wants for the good of everyone.”

“I have to end things with Derek,” Scott says, knowing it doesn’t really answer Stiles’ question.

“Okay. Why?”

“I-” he hesitates. “That’s what Deucalion told me. Stiles, I’m becoming like him.”

And like a dam breaking, it all comes pouring out. Scott tells him everything, the things Deucalion said, about how he’s becoming an Alpha, about what he could do to Derek. He tells Stiles about the fight with his mom and what it felt like to have three feet of steel running right through his ribcage and how he was sure he was going to die. He only stops when his voice starts shaking too badly for him to continue.

“You’re in love with him.”

Scott hesitates. Then he nods once, slowly.

“And you’re breaking it off with him.”

“If I ever hurt him…”

“That’s what you’re taking away from this experience? That _you’re_ a threat?”

Scott shrugs miserably. “I can’t take the chance.”

“Well, far be it for me to dissuade you from dumping the guy,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t start going to Deucalion for character assessments.”

“You don’t think he has a point?”

“I don’t think he has a clue. Or a single line he wouldn’t cross to get what he wanted.”

“Maybe.” Scott sighs. “Derek still deserves to know, though.”

Stiles gives Scott an assessing look. “Does he feel the same way about you?”

“What?”

“Derek. Does he... you know…”

“What does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t. It’s just… I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but just tell him what you know. If he’s half the guy you seem to think he is, he’s not going to abandon you over it.”

“Maybe he should.”

“Maybe you’re an idiot,” Stiles counters, grinning at him. He knocks their shoulders together. “Let me know how it goes. If Derek turns out to be more of an idiot than you, we can always go out clubbing and find you a new boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Or… Look, I’m sure we can find you a romantic friend of any gender you like.”

“Derek’s not my boyfriend,” Scott protest, deciding to ignore the rest. He can dissuade Stiles from trying to set him up with someone else later.

“A certain betting pool I know of has good odds that say otherwise.”

“You set up a betting pool?”

“Who said it was me?”

Scott gives Stiles a skeptical look.

“Fine, whatever,” Stiles relents. “My best friend is in love with Derek Hale. I had to find a silver lining somewhere.”

Scott shakes his head, but he’s finally smiling again. He suspects that might have been the point.

Stiles leaves, muttering something about the crick in his neck the couch is giving him and how he’s already helped mop blood off the floors, he won’t wait around for Derek to make him start washing dishes too. Scott figures it’s more about giving the two of them space, but he appreciates it enough not to say anything.

“Thank you,” he says, before Stiles goes.

Stiles squeezes his shoulder. “Hey. Stop looking like that. You’re gonna be okay.”

 

*

 

Derek’s still asleep when Scott goes back inside. He’s shivering a bit, so Scott grabs the blanket Stiles had been using off the couch and drapes it over him. He looks so peaceful in sleep. So vulnerable. All Scott wants is to keep him safe. He hesitates for a moment, but this could be the last chance he gets. He kisses Derek’s temple and then crawls under the blanket beside him, pulling Derek’s arms around him. It’s unforgivably selfish, he knows, but just one last time, Scott will let himself be selfish.

He doesn’t really sleep again. He dozes a little, drifts in and out, but there’s always a part of him that’s aware of Derek warm against his back. Scott’s grateful for that. He doesn’t want to waste a moment of this.

Derek wakes early the next morning. Scott can tell because of the way his body stiffens while he parses his surroundings, and then relaxes again. He doesn’t say anything though, doesn’t move to get up. Just like he can tell when Derek’s really asleep, Scott’s pretty sure Derek knows he’s faking it, but they let each other pretend.

Eventually, Scott rolls over.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” he says.

And maybe his voice gives him away or maybe Derek already knew this was coming, because he sighs and presses their foreheads together.

“Not yet,” he says, stroking the back of Scott’s neck. “I know, we’ll talk but… not yet.”

It’s a long time before they drag themselves out of bed that morning. Derek makes breakfast silently, and they eat perched on the bed, covers drawn awkwardly around their shoulders. Scott helps wash up afterwards, ignoring Derek’s strongly worded protests.

“I’m not dying any more, I promise,” Scott tells him, settling back beside him on the edge of the bed. “Look, I’m basically healed.”

He holds up his shirt to show Derek. Derek inspects the healing skin carefully, and then lets out a grunt that might actually be approval. He doesn’t try to touch Scott.

The silence grows between them again, and this time, it feels heavy. Scott can’t put this off any longer, but he doesn’t know where to start. Derek doesn’t prompt him, though. Maybe they’re both clinging to the last moments of peace.

Finally, Scott sighs.

"Deucalion says I'm becoming an Alpha. He says it's my nature."

Derek sits forward. He studies Scott, whole body held still.

At last, he says, "You didn't know."

Scott stares. "Did you?"

"I thought you didn't want to tell me."

Scott has no response. He crosses his arms over his stomach, feeling completely defenseless. Derek looks like he doesn't know what to say either.

"It was when Peter... when you stopped him from killing me," he tries. "He saw your eyes flash red. You were right, he was back. He said..." Derek bites his lip and glances away. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have listened."

He reaches for Scott's hand. Scott draws back sharply, ignore the stab of pain that sends through him.

"Why not? He was right. There's no way you can trust me now."

Derek frowns. "Scott, what did Deucalion tell you?"

"It's not just that. I get that he wants to hurt me. But he's only confirming things I already know. Things I've been trying to ignore."

"What did he _say?_ "

"That I'm like him."  

Derek stares, and Scott feels his lip twisting.

"Violent," he clarifies. " _Sadistic_. A killer."

"Scott, you're not - "

"Not a sadist?"

" _Not like Deucalion._ How can you believe that? Fuck, Scott." Derek's hands curl into fists. "Did he tell you this while he was running you through with a three inch pole?"

“He told me this after I spent months getting off on hurting you in increasingly creative ways.”

Derek purses his lips. He watches Scott pick at the fraying edge of his jacket, and Scott tugs harder knowing Derek’s eyes are on him. Months spent denying his true feelings to himself, and he gives in when it’s too late. God, this could really be it. They’ve been pushing so hard against each other’s walls, trying to find a way to fit together without either of them breaking, and now they’re finally crumbling.

Derek says, “If I tell you what Peter told me, will you promise not to panic until you’ve heard the whole thing? You need to understand why I’m saying this before you react to it.”

Scott frowns down at the mess of threads in his hands. “Okay. Sure.”

Derek takes a deep breath.

“Peter wanted me to believe that you were fully aware of your potential to become an Alpha. That the lies were an attempt to manipulate me - just another bid for control. Keeping the truth a secret would let you encroach on my territory without me even noticing. You’d never challenge me outright. You’d just have to get inside my head. Tear down my boundaries, fuck with me until I was only too happy to serve you. I’d be part of your pack and never question it.”

“That makes sense,” Scott says. He feels numb.

“It’s bullshit,” Derek says. “You never lied to me. I let you into my head because I trusted you and you honored that trust. You only hurt me in ways I asked you to, and even then only in ways that were safe. You never once pushed my boundaries; you helped me set them. And if… if we are pack, it’s not that I’m part of yours or you’re part of mine. We’re each other’s.”

Scott looks up. “Are we pack?”

Derek shrugs, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “We’re something.”

He reaches for Scott’s hand again. This time, Scott lets him take it.

“How can you be sure? What if Peter’s right?”

~~~~“Really, Scott? You want to know why I’m trusting you over Peter?”

As worried as Scott is, he finds himself echoing Derek’s smile.

“I went to see him yesterday,” Derek says. “That’s why I was out. I wanted to ask him… well, about you. About True Alphas.” Derek laughs dismissively. “He kept telling me to go home. But I had to know the truth, because… because I thought he was wrong. He told me True Alphas inspired blind loyalty, that they compelled you to follow them. He made it sound like it was some kind of bond I wouldn’t be able to fight.”

“Deucalion told me something similar,” Scott murmurs.

“It was a lie, Scott. After you told me about Deucalion confronting you…” He drops his voice. “After I saw what the things he said did to you, I realized loyalty wasn’t exactly what I felt. And I knew it wasn’t what you wanted from me, either.” Derek’s smile turns triumphant. “Peter confirmed it. He was lying.”

Scott stares at him. After a moment, Derek falters.

“Is something wrong?”

"Go back a bit,” Scott says. “What was the first thing Peter said to you when you saw him yesterday?”

“Um. ‘What are you doing here?’” Derek offers, frowning. “I don’t really remember. Why?”

“And then he told you to go home?”

Derek nods. “In the end, I think he only told me the truth to get rid of me.”

Scott closes his eyes, not sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

“What is it?”

“They’re working together,” Scott says. “How else do you explain them telling each of us the exact same lie? Peter knew Deucalion would be waiting for you. He probably put him up to it. He’s still determined to become an Alpha again… He couldn’t beat you alone so he went to someone who could.”

When he opens his eyes, Derek’s staring back at him.

“Deucalion wanted you to think you’re violent and dangerous so you’d see joining him as your only option. They were using me to convince you.” Derek stands abruptly, face twisted with anger. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Derek, wait.” Scott stands too. “Please wait. We’ll stop them together, I promise. I’ll help you come up with a plan. But just… right now, I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to even think about them. We’re safe, right? We’re both okay. So let’s… let’s sit down and talk.”

Derek clenches his jaw and holds Scott’s gaze for a long moment. Scott keeps his breathing even, praying Derek listens. Derek sits back down.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Scott hesitates.

“You’re really sure this is what you want? If I’m… I mean, I’m still becoming an Alpha. That part must be true.” He forces himself to keep his eyes on Derek despite the urge to look away. “Maybe we should stop things before they get out of control. Maybe whatever’s between us wasn’t meant to last.”

“What do you want, Scott?”

Scott opens his mouth, but god, he doesn’t know what to say. How much is he even allowed to have?

“I don’t want to stop.”

“Then I’m sure,” Derek says. “This is what I want.”

Scott falters. “There’s one more thing. My, uh- my mom knows, now. About us. She’s not exactly happy.”

Derek swallows, but there’s a small smile in his eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Scott says. His stomach turns over at the thought, but it’s out of his hands now. He can’t go back, and really, he’s been hiding it too long already.

Perhaps Derek senses some of what he’s feeling, because he shifts closer, nudging Scott with his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Scott. We’re going to be fine.”

And without knowing how or why, Scott believes him.

 

*

  

Their next clash with the Alpha pack is brutal.

It’s also very precise. Scott and Derek have planned this down to the minutest detail, and though they hadn’t wanted this much violence, they also hadn’t expected it to go otherwise.

Afterwards, Scott curls up on Derek’s bed and stares off into space. Derek’s in the bathroom, still scrubbing Deucalion’s blood off his hands. His pulse spiked with anxiety when Scott tried to follow him in, so Scott’s giving him room to breathe.

“Do you think we made the right decision?” Scott asks, when the sound of running water finally shuts off.

“About killing him?”

“About letting the others live.”

Scott hears a towel rustling as Derek dries his hands, and then a few moments later, he drops onto the bed facing him.

“I think we made the only decision we could,” Derek says. “On both counts.”

His arms wind around himself, hands tucked up out of sight. Scott nods. He doesn’t like the way Derek avoids his eyes.

“I wish there had been another way,” Scott says.

“I don’t.”

Derek’s gaze flickers towards Scott’s chest. There’s no scar there, no sign it was ever damaged. Even so, the memory sticks. Sometimes Scott feels like it could open up again at the slightest touch.

“Is it okay if I…”

Scott reaches out, fingers hovering by Derek’s wrist. Derek hesitates, and then nods once. Scott smiles, and eases Derek’s hand away from his body.

Derek moves reluctantly, like gears grown rusty with disuse, but he allows Scott to unfold his fists and run thumbs over the palms of his hands. Scott brings one hand up to his lips to kiss the knuckles, and then threads their fingers together.

“Thank you,” he says. “What you did was… I don’t know if I would have been strong enough.”

Derek keeps his eyes on their linked fingers.

“It’s not about strength,” he says. And then, “If it came down to protecting your pack, you could have done it.”

His voice is rough, and Scott’s abruptly reminded of the way he sounded six days ago, when Scott asked if he knew what had happened to Peter.

“You don’t think he’s planning anything else, do you?”

“Peter won’t bother us again,” Derek said, and the steely finality in his tone made Scott afraid to ask.

Scott doesn’t think Derek killed him. The strange part is, he almost wishes he had. 

“You’re right,” Scott says. He runs his thumbs over Derek’s hands again. “If someone I cared about was in danger, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

 

*

 

Derek's body shakes with tension. Scott's belt hits his shoulders, and he gasps.

"Harder," he says. "Please, Scott."

His back arches as he grips the ropes suspending his arms above his head. Scott strikes again, earning him a low, drawn out moan that goes straight to his cock.

"More," Derek chokes out. "I can take more. Please. It feels good."

Scott strikes again, and then again, each stroke harder than the last. They leave deep red marks across Derek’s back. Derek’s panting hard now. He keeps begging, voice catching with each strike, and helpless sounds of longing fill the room. It makes Scott’s skin feel warm. His body works on muscle memory, his entire focus narrowing to the swing of the belt. He’d almost call it intoxicating, except that his mind is never this clear. There’s no conflict, no uncertainty, and the only decisions he has to make are can Derek take this and will Scott give him what he wants.

“Please, fuck, I – I need it. Don’t stop. Scott, _please_.”

He keeps going until Derek can’t even form words.

Scott cries afterwards. He wraps his arms around Derek, digs fingers into his skin, and sobs. Derek kisses Scott's shoulder and murmurs, "It's okay, it's okay, _thank you_." He's trembling, still coming down from the adrenaline high, but he snakes his arms around Scott's waist and holds on.

Scott traces the raised welts on his back.

"It's okay to like it," Derek says. "If we're going to do this, I need you to want it."

He pulls back, just enough to reach for the bottle of water on the table. After he's done, he pushes it towards Scott.

“You should heal these,” Scott says. His voice sounds hollow in the open room. He takes the bottle from Derek and stares through it without drinking.

“I’d rather keep them for a while,” Derek says. “Is that… is that okay?”

Scott presses the mark beneath his fingers, testing. Derek hisses but arches into the touch, seeking the pain. A blissful smile emerges on his face.

“Please _._ ”

“Alright,” Scott says. He’s pretty sure what he means is, _anything._

After a moment, Derek prods the water in Scott’s hand.

“Drink,” he insists.

They help each other clean up without speaking. These moments are always soft. Scott’s glad for the chance to take care of Derek, to reassure himself he’s here and okay. Derek, for his part, is surprisingly calm. He treats Scott gently, not like Scott’s fragile but like he’s unimaginably precious. Scott doesn’t understand it, is still too dazed to even try, but it feels good.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” Derek asks later, once they’re curled up in bed, forehead to forehead and arms around each other. Apologetically, he adds, “You’ve got this look.”

“I don’t have a look,” Scott protests, but he’s too sleepy to be properly indignant.

“I thought we agreed no more secrets.”

Derek shifts closer, and Scott feels like he’s trying to drink in the touch through his skin. He’s warm in a way that has nothing to do with physical contact. And maybe this is the look Derek is talking about, because Scott keeps thinking, _Maybe this time, you tell him. Maybe this time._ Each time he opens his mouth to say something though, he’s strangled by the hundreds of things that could go wrong. They’ve talked about everything but this.

“Derek…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I trust you. I just want to know you’re sure you want this.”

“I’m sure.”

Derek teeters on the edge of saying more. Scott feels it in every line of his body. Then he just sighs, eyes crinkling up into a smile that’s mostly genuine. He leans in, brushing his lips against Scott’s. The kiss is so soft and sweet, Scott can’t help smiling too. He presses back, lips parting to let Derek in.

If the connection between he and Derek were something that could be touched, Scott might describe it as brightly glowing embers, a tiny fire they’re both tending. He doesn’t miss the blaze that once threatened to consume them.

“Hey,” he says, brushing at the hair framing Derek’s face. “You okay?”

Derek’s mouth gets a funny twist to it. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason. Just checking.”

“I’m fine, Scott. Never better.”

Scott closes his eyes, fingers stroking Derek’s hair in earnest now.

“You’re so good for me, Derek. Always so good.”

Usually Derek would hum in pleasure at the praise, but today’s already been a strange sort of day.

“You’re good for me too, Scott,” he says. “Always.”

_Maybe today_ , Scott thinks, but he just kisses Derek’s lips again and keeps his eyes shut.


	9. Chapter 9

When Scott had finally gone home the day after – after everything, after he’d realized he was in love, after his mom had found out, after Deucalion had run him through with a steel bar and a sick version of the truth – when he finally went home, Melissa had been quiet. Scott was prepared for anger, for disappointment; he braced himself for shouting. But he found her waiting for him in the lounge room, motionless, a cup of coffee going cold in her hands.

“Mom,” he said, softly.

Her eyes swept over him, taking him in, and Scott became acutely aware of all the ways even accelerated healing couldn’t quite hide his injuries. His heart thudded as he met her gaze. There was no anger in it, just relief, and a kind of numb resignation.

“I wish I could promise you to stop putting myself in danger,” he said.

Melissa set her mug down on the floor and stood up. Before Scott even understood what she was doing, her arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. Scott pressed his face against her shoulder. He found himself fighting back tears.

“Just promise me you’ll always come home,” she said.

Scott clung tighter.

It’s two weeks to the day since then, and they still haven’t talked about Derek. They will. Scott knows they have to, can feel everything unspoken hanging in the air between them like the rising heat of summer. It’s heaviest on the days Scott kisses her cheek on his way out the door and doesn’t tell her where he’s going. Days like today he just feels cold. He stays home instead, unwilling to push the fragile balance between them, and wishes it didn’t have to be so hard.

His mom is in the kitchen making coffee. Scott’s not thinking about uneasy silences and unfinished conversations – he’s trying not to.

“Will you pour me a cup?” he asks, setting his newly empty mug on the counter. Caffeine doesn’t do much for him these days, but coffee is warm and bitter, and sometimes the strong hit to his senses is what he needs.

She smiles at him, and he smiles back.

“I’m not working tonight,” she says. “Do you feel like anything special for dinner?”

“I don’t mind. Maybe just burritos? I can go to the shop if you need.”

Melissa shakes her head. “I was going anyway. I’ll grab some tortillas, that sounds good.”

She fills Scott’s cup, then her own, and sets the coffeepot back on the counter. Scott stirs in milk and sugar, wrinkling his nose as his mother sips hers black. For a moment, she looks like she’s about to say something. The silence stretches.

“He makes me happy,” Scott says. “Is that so bad?”

Melissa doesn’t react. For the space of a second, the limbo they’ve been caught in these past weeks is the only thing that exists, and it’s so thick neither of them can move. Maybe he misjudged, Scott thinks, and they’re not ready to talk about this. It’s too late, though. It’s been too late for a while.

Melissa lets out the breath that was stuck in her throat, and time starts again.

“Oh, Scott, of course not. But sometimes that’s not enough. If someone’s not good for you, if they’re hurting you… It still feels like happiness for a while. I know. But it breaks down in the end.”

“You’re so sure he’ll hurt me,” Scott murmurs.

It’s hard to look at her. It’s hard to breathe. This is a fight he invited, but he doesn’t want to face it.

“I’m _not_ sure. That’s what worries me. I’m your mother, Scott, and there’s so much I can’t protect you from but this? There’s no lives at stake, no scheming villain only you have the power to stop. This is about you and your life. You deserve better. You deserve to be safe.”

Scott’s chest rises and falls.

“You’re right,” he says. The words almost stay trapped in his throat. He swallows, and tries again. “I do deserve to be safe. But I’m not. I can’t be.” He keeps his eyes downcast. “I didn’t choose to have this kind of power, but I have it. I can’t just watch people suffer and die. You were right all along - I have to help. That’s the choice I get and this is the person I am.”

He makes a sweeping gesture around the kitchen, like it could sum up the weight of that, all the pain and frustration and grief. The fragile, hard won self-love.

“My life is a constant stream of risks and most of them are terrible. I’m in near-constant danger. One screw up and other people _die_. Sometimes even when everything goes right, they still get hurt. Those are the stakes, and they’re always high.” Scott takes a deep breath. “And Derek gets it. He helps me deal with it. You said he should be protecting me from it, but we both know he can’t any more than you can. His world is my world, now. But we’re stronger together. It’s easier when he’s on my side.”

Melissa holds her coffee in front of her chest like a shield. She’s completely still, and Scott has no idea what’s going on in her head.

“I know it’s a risk,” he says, softer. He forces a lopsided smile. “My life is a constant stream of them, remember? But this one’s for me. If it works out, I don’t just live to fight another day. I get to be happy. You can understand that, right? It’s worth it to me.”

Melissa doesn’t speak. Scott bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying more.

Finally, without moving, without even seeming to breathe, Melissa breaks the silence.

“We could leave.”

Scott freezes. “What?”

“I’m not... That’s not a threat. I won’t force you into anything. But this is so much more than you should have to live with. Maybe I _should_ be finding a way to shield you from it.”

“I don’t want that,” Scott says. “Anyway, where would we go that no one needs protecting? Cutting me off from my pack won’t make me safer or any less responsible.”

Melissa sighs. “I never thought I’d wish I’d raised a selfish son.”

Scott gives her a small, uncertain grin.

“Alright. I don’t like it,” she says, “but I… I do understand. On a trial basis, then – a very tentative trial basis, Scott – I won’t forbid you to see him. But we’re going to keep talking about this. There’s going to be-”

Scott throws his arms around her, cutting her off. His face splits into a huge, helpless smile. Melissa tenses in surprise, then carefully slides her arms out of the space between them and puts her coffee down on the counter.

“There’s going to be _rules_ ,” she insists, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “Starting with, I want to be properly introduced. He and I have some things to talk about.”

Scott pulls back, laughing. “Try to leave him in one piece, mom.”

“No promises,” Melissa mutters.

 

*

 

Scott lies awake in Derek’s arms, holding Derek’s hands tight across his chest. Derek’s breath gusts over the back of his neck. He lets the rhythm of his own breath match it, their chest rising and falling together. Scott doesn’t think there’s anything to read into that, but he could be persuaded to try.

He slips out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Derek doesn’t wake, but his body chases Scott’s as he pulls away. That does something complicated to Scott’s chest, like a living creature settling inside his ribcage, warm and heavy around his heart. He pauses at the edge of the bedframe to slip on a pair of discarded jeans. Between the sheets, Derek curls into the dip Scott left behind. Scott’s body heat must still be lingering there.

Scott crosses the room to the window. The sky outside is bright, lit up by a waxing moon.

Things have been… better, with Derek, since their talk. No, better’s not strong enough. Things have been _good_. Scott’s still scared, he doubts that will ever change, but he can face it. It’s worth it. This isn’t something Scott’s doing because he needs it anymore, and maybe it never really was. Scott just wants it, and that’s okay. Derek wants it too.

He steadies Scott, it’s true. On the days when boundless power courses through him like blood and Scott’s half a breath from drowning in it, he holds fast to the thought of what would happen if he lost control, and he calls Derek. Sometimes, Derek talks low and soothing, reminding Scott of all the times he’s done this already, reassuring him he just has to keep taking one breath after another until it passes. And sometimes Derek grins in a way that’s audible across the phone line and says, “Oh yeah? The scrawny kid who couldn’t land a punch when we first met suddenly thinks he’s tough?”

It’s contagious every time.

“Things change,” Scott teases. If his voice is a little choked, at least the tide’s already receding. “Or haven’t you heard? I’m a _true alpha_ now.”

Scott can hear the eye rolls, too.

“A true pain in the ass,” he mutters.

“Only if you’re good.”

Derek keeps denying it, but Scott’s pretty sure he blushes.

Sometimes, Derek doesn’t pick up the phone. It’s not often, but there’s still a pack of alphas hanging around Beacon Hills and other threats besides. And then sometimes he’s showering, or left his phone in the car, or something else totally mundane. On those days, Scott closes his eyes, and listens to phone ring out. More and more, Scott realizes, it’s not fear of the consequences that keeps him from falling over the edge, but simply the knowledge that he can hold on.

It’s not just Derek. Scott’s learning to steady himself.

A warm hand slides across the nape of Scott’s neck. Scott smiles, though he’s surprised he didn’t hear Derek get up.

“Hey,” Derek says.

He steps closer, flattening himself against Scott’s back, and Scott leans into the touch appreciatively. His feet have grown numb without him noticing, bare against the stone floor. Derek is a welcome reprieve from the chill in the air.

“How long have you been standing here?”

Scott looks out the window again, up at the sky. A slight hint of color is starting to break across it now.

“I’m honestly not sure,” he says.

“Something bothering you?”

Scott shakes his head.

Derek winds his arms tighter across Scott’s stomach, and Scott places his hands over Derek’s to hold him there, thumb stroking over Derek’s knuckles.

“I was just thinking,” Scott says.

“About?”

“About us.”

He expects Derek to prompt him further, but Derek’s silent. His head is dipped a little, leaving them cheek to cheek as they stare out the window. They stand wordless, hearts tapping out a syncopated rhythm inside their chests.

“I trust you, Scott,” Derek says at last. “You didn’t hurt me. You never do. If you want to stop, I understand, but do what’s right for you. Trust me to do what’s right for me.”

“I do. That’s kind of what I’ve been thinking about.”

“What?”

“I trust you. And I… I think I trust myself.” Scott laughs, and he’s taking himself by surprise, and it feels like giddy freedom. “This is right for me.”

He unlinks his fingers, untangles himself from Derek’s arms, turns to face him. There are a hundred things he wants to say all of a sudden. _I didn’t know I could feel this way – about myself, about the future, about the things I can do. You make me believe in that, and in us. I never thought I’d feel this way about you._

“Scott?” Derek asks.

“I love you,” Scott says.

Derek’s jaw drops. He stands frozen, like he’s trying to process what Scott’s saying, like he doesn’t quite believe it.

Scott’s torn between panic and the wild urge to laugh. This is so far from how he imagined this conversation going and yet somehow it feels right. Inevitable, at the very least. He fights off the urge to apologize. It’d be a lie anyway; he’s not sorry about this.

“That’s… that’s a lot, isn’t it? I know it’s not what we said this was going to be about. But it’s how I feel. We’re done with lying to each other, right? I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted you to -”

And then Derek pulls Scott in, cutting him off with a kiss.

Scott’s heart skips about three beats. His mind goes blissfully blank, instinct and muscle memory taking over. He gasps into the kiss, body melting against Derek’s like it’s the only warm thing left in the world. One hand finds Derek’s bicep, the other wraps around Derek’s waist, and he pulls Derek closer, trying to erase every minute space between them. Derek surrenders easily to it, hips canting forward as he sucks on Scott’s bottom lip. And God, this is really happening. Derek really wants him – wants _this_. Scott pushes his tongue into Derek’s mouth and Derek opens up for him without hesitation. It’s all so heady and desperate. It could be their first kiss, except that they know each other so well, move together so naturally. Scott pries Derek’s hand from his hip and Derek gives in to that too, lets Scott link their fingers together.

When Scott finally pulls back, they’re both flushed and giddy. Derek is quietly glowing and Scott, giving in to the bubble of joy building behind his chest, closes his eyes and laughs. Their fingers are still linked at their side. The thrill that sends through Scott is incredible, every point of contact becoming new again. Derek closes his free hand over the back of Scott’s neck and draws him closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“That better not have been an elaborate distraction technique,” Scott says. His eyes are still closed; there’s no real fear behind it.

Derek gives his head a tiny shake.

“This is what you weren’t telling me? I should have said something sooner.”

Scott grins. “I can’t believe you accused me of keeping things from you.”

“Hey, I never said I was being totally open in return.”

“Hypocrite,” Scott says fondly, trailing his fingers low over the small of Derek’s back.

“Tease,” Derek retorts.

Scott hums his agreement.

“You love me.”

Derek goes quiet at that, and after a moment, Scott opens his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe Derek’s not ready to say it out loud, yet.

Derek’s watching him with an expression so sincere it almost hurts to look at.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. He tilts his head back, angling it so that he can press a light kiss to Scott’s lips. “I love you.”

Scott’s heart skips all over again.

“With that in mind, how would you feel about taking me back to bed?”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Scott says, laughing.

He hooks a leg over Derek’s hips, and then the other, holding on to Derek’s neck and giving Derek plenty of time to catch him.

“I think, since I’m the one who’s been standing out in the cold, you should take _me_ back to bed.”

Derek snorts, tightening his grip. Deadpan, he says, “As you wish, Sir.”

Scott makes a face of mock outrage, though it does a terrible job of covering his smile.

“Is that sarcasm I hear?”

“Why? Are you going to punish me?” Derek readjusts his hold and then starts walking them towards the bed. “Maybe pull me over your knees and spank me?”

“It’s not that I _want_ to, but if I let this slide, you might think you can get away with anything.”

They collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, both laughing helplessly. Derek kisses the corner of Scott’s mouth, carefully extracting himself, and then eagerly slides down to arrange himself over Scott’s lap. Scott sits up, raking a hand through Derek’s hair.

“I’m beginning to doubt the effectiveness of my methods.”

“Your methods are fine. I feel very chastised. Shut up and spank me.”

Scott twists his fingers tight in Derek’s hair, yanking his head back. Derek gasps, somewhere between pain and longing, and the sound stretches out into a whimper when Scott doesn’t let go. His body goes automatically lax for Scott, ready to accept whatever Scott wants from him. Scott smiles slowly.

“Say please.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand that's all, folks! Thanks to everyone who stuck with me while I finished this at an agonisingly slow pace, I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to. I decided to post the last three chapters all at once - you've all waited long enough already. I hope it lives up to your expectations, or at least, that you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Gonna go nap for a week and then maybe finish something else (lmao). Hugs and smooches to anyone who wants them. You're all the best.


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